SoCal
by Krazyk85
Summary: Being with them wasn't the problem. Losing me was. A life filled with sandy beaches and sunshine, I felt safe. Nothing bad happens here in SoCal except bad mexican food. Or so I thought. This is not your everyday love story. Based on the movie Savages. For Kninut, an Edward, Bella, Jasper- polyfic
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Twilight, or Savages, or Melvin Udall, but I do own this dose of fiction.**

**AN: I wrote this fic based on the movie Savages for Kni Nut. It was started under a different account, but I was outted a week later. So, here it is. I'm stamping my name on it. Hopefully you like it and if you're still waiting patiently for Chopping and Changing to update, I'm still working on it.**

**Chapter One...ish**

Falling in love was exactly how it sounded: abrupt, unpredictable, and face down in the dirt. Palms dented with a million pebbles and knees scrapped clean of the skin. The fresh wound bleeds and throbs. The pain exhuriating. Endless tears roll down your reddened cheeks and you can't catch your breath from crying so hard.

It's in that moment, beyond the hurt and hammering heart, you know you're alive. And I fell down hard, not once, but twice in this life. First for Jasper Whitlock and then for Edward Cullen.

It seemed impossible for someone like me to love this crazy. What did I know? A shy, sixteen year old girl with an expected nativity about her. I didn't know what this queasy feeling in my stomach meant. My mom said it was bad shellfish. She didn't get it. Never did. The way she described love was a generic brand of passion. You find a man who doesn't annoy you and gives you the big 'o' at least two to three percent of the time, and call it good.

Several divorces and countless boyfriends later, she still believes in this skewed description of relationships.

But I knew the meaning being thoroughly fucked. How do I begin to explain how my thighs ache and tremble with the thought of their touch? Yes. Their. Both of their hands and lips and dicks have been on me, in me, and through me. I wasn't a cheater or a slut. These boys, harmony and war, were mine. I was their girl. They loved me more than life. Almost more than they loved each other. Best friends since they were in diapers. They used to share surf boards, but now they share me.

I know nobody will understand unless they knew how we came to be. How things are never what they seem.

How does a girl like me, transplanted from Arizona to live with her stoner father in California, be lucky enough to find heself in a fairytale romance with two princes?

Well...I guess the story starts the day my father picked me up from the airport in a rusted 67' Malibu convertible.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: it's decided, I don't own shit, nor am I slick. But I like to mess with these characters. If you're down, so am I. If you read my stories, you know I'll write about anything. **

**The REAL Chapter One**

I don't know why I expected my father to greet me at baggage claim. Maybe it was the hope that things were different or maybe he had changed, but I'd only managed to set myself up for disappointment. The long walk towards the entrance, with my forty pound suitcase wheeling behind me, felt like the last green mile before my execution. Laguna Beach was my purgatory. My mom got fed up with me for ditching school and shoplifting.

The funny thing is, I didn't need to steal. My family was loaded...well, my mom was through her millionth husband. She married a baseball pro. Some pitcher for the Arizona Diamondbacks. He's nice and had given me a pretty good size allowance, but I'm a klepto. It doesn't matter what it is, a dollar pen or hundred dollar pair of Doc Martens, I was going to steal it.

And I'd gotten pretty good at pocketing shit. It's like a sport to me. All it took was a bashful smile and a clever distraction. But then a few weeks ago, some annoying clerk at Dillards caught me red handed and my luck changed after that. I couldn't even swipe a damn tube of lipstick without getting my picture taken and plastered on a wall for notorious shoplifters.

Then my mom got, like, all hypervigilant and ransacked my room. There she found every bit of the stolen merchandise stashed under my bed and in a large tote stored away in the closet. It was a very impressive collection, but I think it was her platinum 2.5 carat diamond ring that set her off and got the ball rolling on my relocation. That was my biggest trophy too. It crushed me to give it back to her.

Mom is such a bitch sometimes.

Anyway, so that's why I'm here standing on this sidewalk searching for my dad. The thought crossed my mind, like a contingency plan, of what I'd do if he didn't show up. Living on the streets wasn't something I fancy. Maybe I could hitchhike home. My mom would take me back. It's not like I'm a horrible daughter. I had manners. Some would even say I was polite. I'm just gifted with sticky fingers. It's like a mutation or a side effect of a dysfunctional family.

"Hey there, Bella Bean!"

My head snaps in the direction of a lime green convertible with white wall tires and rust on the fenders. There's a multi-colored surf board hanging out the backseat, and my father, he's got a beard and blond shaggy hair. Maybe it's grey. I can't really tell.

"Dad?" I cover my eyes to block out the sun and take a hesitant step forward.

He grimaces. "Don't call me that, man."

"Huh?" I am on the curb now with the car's heat burning my skin.

"Charlie." He smiles and nods. "Just call me Charlie. Dad freaks me out."

Two years ago, he insisted I called him Chief or Sir, but that was before he got shot in the line of duty. He kind went off the grid after that and we lost touch. My mom must have really wanted to get rid of me if she was willing to track down my elusive father.

Or should I say Charlie.

"Get in." He reaches over and opens the door.

The car is filthy. Trash is piled up on the floor and I have to kick it away to make room for my feet. Charlie doesn't notice my disgust. He only notices my hair.

"It's getting long."

It's to my lower back. The ends are thin and I haven't cut it since we've last seen each other. But I lie, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

"It's not. I chopped a whole bunch off last week."

He swerves into traffic, giving me a sideways glance, and snorts. "I ain't that high, baby girl."

***()()***

Charlie is different. The once stoic man with a drill Sergent mentality is now a philosophical hippy. He talks non-stop. I try to keep up, but he switches topics too fast. It's annoying, and nice at the same time. I'm not sure how to act around him. Even if I haven't seen him in years, I can't break out of solider mode. Everything is yes, sir and no, sir. This behavior seems to kill his jive. Whatever that means.

"You gotta loosen up." He rolls his shoulders and his body convulses. It's confusing, almost like he's having a seizure right in front of me. I start to worry when he goes slump and starts drifting to oncoming traffic. He's got his eyes closed and we are heading straight for an SUV.

"Uh, Dad..." My voice cracks. "Dad..."

The SUV blares its horns and we are moments from colliding with it at sixty-five miles per hour. Blood and metal and pain and agony is all I can see. "CHARLIE!" I scream and shake him with both hands.

He snaps his eyes open and jerks the car back into the right lane. He turns to me and grins. "Nothing to it."

I am disoriented and breathless. My heart won't quit pounding. "What?"

It takes me a second to realize he is fucking with me. This pisses me off. "Asshole!" Father or not, I just wail on him. He is laughing, flinching and moving away from my punches. He then says something that halts my assault.

_Atta' girl._

Siitting back and recoiling away from him, I press my fists into my stomach. I feel sick. "Why would you do that to me?"

There is no remorse or apology in his eyes. He just shrugs, like it ain't a no thing. "You're too stiff, Kiddo. Too much like your mother. I needed to shake you out of it."

My face and neck gets hot. I'm fuming. "And nearly killing us is the way to do that?"

"It got you to talk to me."

***()()***

Charlie pulls up to a house on the beach. It's surrounded by a 10 foot tall concrete fence. There is an iron gate in the driveway that stops us from entering, and all my hopes are dashed that this is my new home when Charlie has to call someone to beep us through. It's gorgeous. Everything about it takes my breath away. Beautiful stone, maybe granite, accents the mansion exterior walls and a glass balcony that wraps around the entire second floor. There is so much green and colorful plant life. A far cry from the brown, lifeless, dust bowl known as Arizona.

My imagination drifts off to a fantasy where I wake up to that ocean view every morning. I'm not a coffee drinker, but I could definitely become one. This boho vibe Charlie was raving about didn't seem all that ridiculous now.

Charlie shifts the car into park and shuts off the engine. We get out and walk up to the door. He knocks twice. I lean to my right and peek through the window. It's hard to see anything. The glass is that pebbled texture, giving the home owners needed privacy.

"Not that I give a shit what your mom thinks," he says, and I roll my eyes, "but I think this should stay between us."

I look around, a bit confused. "Why?"

"Well," he rocks back on his heels and shrugs, "your mom isn't exactly open minded to this sort of thing."

There is that sick feeling in my stomach. Like the trap door has opened beneath me and I am falling to my death.

"Why are we here, Dad?"

The door unlocks and it slowly opens.

"It's Charlie," he says in a quick breath and pushes me forward as cold AC hits my face, "and remember this stays between us."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: This is also for Sunny. She's been wanting this fic forever. **

**Chapter Two**

I'm not a clumsy person. Mom made sure of that by putting me in gymnastics and ballet since the age of two. She had me take piano lessons, and when money afforded it, she enrolled me in charm school. It was were professional young ladies aquire their prim and proper etiquette to land a rich husband in their adult years. I rebelled all of that at fifteen.

But none of those skills mattered when you're being pushed by your father and your foot catches the the lip of the door's ledge. I saw it happening and was still unable to stop it. My hands shot out to brace myself for the hard, very painful, landing that my face was going to sustain.

I close my eyes tight, but feel something different than solid marble floor. It's soft, hot, and smells like Hawaiian Tropic. The firm grip on my arms hurts, but I don't complain as the touch ignites a million goosebumps to rise to the surface. My brain isn't processing fast enough to reconcile what was supposed to happen and what did happen. I just breathe, not moving, and enjoying this moment of bliss, knowing damn well embarrassment is around the corner.

I hear a chuckle and a easeful, gentle voice. "Is this her?"

"Yeah." Dad grunts and yanks me back up by my shirt. "This is my stowaway Bella. She's the daughter of a friend of mine."

He says this in jest, but it still stings, more than I care to admit, and anger, mixed with overwhelming resentment causes my hands to tense and curl into hard fists. Calling him by his name is one thing, but his tasteless jokes is crossing the line. An hour in this man's company is all it takes for me to miss my neurotic mother.

I shrug him off and flick my heated gaze up to the asshole we are lying to. A pair of eyes, as blue as the sky, stares back and knocks the fight out of me.

The beauty and clarity of the color derails my train of thought. Completely stupified, I blink several times.

Is this boy real?

He's around my age, maybe older.

I can't tell.

Every inch of him is smooth and his baby face throws me off. But he's tall-way taller than Dad. His blond hair is dreaded and pulled into a pony tail. Sans shirt, my focus drifts down to his red and black checkered board shorts. They are hung so low on his hips, I can actually see were his tan ends and pubes begin.

It feels intimate to see that much of him, and my head snaps up as a reflex, only to be even more mortified by his smug grin. He caught me drooling all over him, and I can't stop the blush that engulfs my face in flames, but I don't dare look away from him.

Because there is nothing I can say or do to salvage this situation. It's best to act nonchalant. He can't know how scared I am, or how he's already affects me, or no matter what I do, I can't seem to get my heart to slow down. It's so loud in my ears. It surprises me that they can't hear it.

I force a hardened smile and raise a challenging brow.

He laughs to himself and nods. "Right. I'm being rude. Would you like to come in?"

Dad answers and nudges me forward. "Yeah, thanks, J-Man."

I roll my eyes at a forty year old man using lame lingo. It's more embarrassing than falling into a gorgeous boy's arms. It didn't take long, but I am grateful to not be associated as Charlie's daughter. Two years is what I promised Mom, but after that, I am gone. I'll be eighteen and free to do whatever I like.

"Is your folks home?" Dad asks.

"No," Boy answers and leads us into this large living room.

There is a glass Arcadia door, about 15 feet long and 12 foot high, that bringing most of sunlight into the room and giving away a surreal view of the beach outside. If I listened intently enough, I could hear the seagulls and lapping of the water on the sand. It's peaceful, and I yawn with exhaustion.

"Take a seat," Boy says to me and pats the spot next to him.

It's tempting, but I think I'll lose my mind if I were to be that close. I can still smell him on me. It was brief, an accidental contact, and it's consuming.

I try to play it cool, opting to take a seat on the other plush white sofa across the room.

He watches me with an amused, sexy as hell, smirk. I think he sees right through me. This makes me more nervous. Dad is talking, and I try to ignore these feelings, but it's not easy. He stares at me, cracking his knuckles and licking his lips over and over and over.

I want to know his name.

"So," Dad smacks Boy on his leg to get his attention, "you got the stuff?"

"Oh, shit. Right." Jumping to his feet, he goes over to the book shelf and returns a second later carrying a baggie filled with oregano.

I laugh dryly. "You're not seriously doing this right now."

Dad looks at me and smiles. "Relax, Bella Bean, it just weed."

"Just weed?" I scoff. "It's freaking illegal. If you get caught with that, do you realize the jail time you'll get?"

He places his hand over his heart, where he used to wear his badge, and winks. "I'm not worried."

"That's just perfect," I say. "Let's just get arrested, who cares, right?"

Boy has his head down, opening the bag and pouring its contents out onto the table, but he hears everything. I'm sure he thinks our bickering is a riot.

"Some role model you are, Charlie." I'm only joking, but the boy mumbles something that I don't catch. "What did you say?"

He's too busy packing marijuana into a tie-dyed pipe to talk directly to me. "You're being a hypocrite."

"Oh, really?"

"Really." He sets his unbelievably crashing waves of blues on me. It's breathtaking and maddening all at once. He's just a boy.

I cross my arms over my chest in an effort to seem upset or tough. "How's that?"

"By berating someone for breaking the law when you're a little law breaker yourself."

"I don't belive I've ever broke the law."

"No?"

"No!"

Dad is searching his pockets for a lighter. Boy breaks his gaze from me, giving me a chance to compose myself, and hands him a Zippo. The room is instantly filled with thick smoke.

"So, I guess they were handing out freebies at every store you've been to," Boy says to me.

He knows. I want to punch Dad. God, stoner's are such gossiping rats.

I refuse to give in. "It never seemed wrong to me. More like a habit, or, like, I don't know, a hobby."

"Bullshit." Boy waves Dad off as he try to hand him back the pipe, leaning forward and shortening the gap between us. "You knew it was wrong. That's why you did it. You got off on the danger and the risk of getting caught."

"And what about him?" I gesture towards Dad. He was still puffing away on the pipe. "What's his reasons for breaking the law?"

Boy grins. "Because he likes getting high."

"Clearly," I say and get up from the couch. The smoke is making me dizzy, a little nauseous, and I know this clam bake is going to get me high soon if I don't get away. "I need some air."

"Here, let me" Boy says, and takes me out the Arcadia doors to the patio.

The breeze carries a cool mist from the ocean. I take a deep breath. It's like a dream here. The air is clean and fresh. I can see why people who live here are all vegans. It makes you want to take care of your body.

I hum with content. There is a chuckle beside me. Boy is still here. I can feel his gaze on me.

"You surf?"

"What?"

He leans over the balcony and our arms touch. My breath hitches and heart pounds. Every part of me wants to get closer to him. I take a peek up at him, and I notice how long his eye lashes are. This boy is the most beautiful person in the world.

"I think you should let me take you out tomorrow, " he says.

I push and tuck my wild hair behind my ears, gulping down a bucket of spit that has collected in my mouth. "Tommorow?"

"The weather will be warm and the ocean will be calm. Ideal for beginners. I'll pick you up around six," he tells me.

"I didn't even say I would go!"

There's a perplexed look on his face. "Why wouldn't you go?"

"Uh, because, I don't even know your name."

This is how I meet Dad's drug dealer.

"Jasper Whitlock." He extends his hand out for me to shake. I hesitate, and he sighs. "It's not going to bite you."

"Are you sure about that?"

I imagine what it would feel like for him to bite me. His teeth sinking into my skin. How much it would hurt but feel good at the same. This fantasy of mine sends a tingle to my fingertips and a aching between my legs.

He smiles at me like knows. "Just be ready to go by six."

I open my mouth to protest, but he doesn't give me the chance. He walks inside and closes the door, offically ending the conversation.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks to KniNut and Sunny for pushing me on this fic, Kmah for being a supportive ear, and Brina for always being my prereader and friend. They're all amazing people to know. **

**Chapter Three**

Dad gives me a nod and gestures for us to leave the moment I walk back inside. Their business is finished. The weed is gone, and there is no noticeable evidence that anything illegal went down—besides the overwhelming smell of the stuff. They did try to hide it though. There is a can of Wildflower Febreeze on the table, and judging by my sinus headache, they've sprayed the whole damn thing.

It's like a stoner's meadow up in here.

Jasper's eyes are on me and he is all smiles, flipping and rolling the Zippo in between his long fingers. The motion is languid and suggestive. It's like he's doing it for my benefit. Like he wants me to know how coordinated his fingers are and just how good they would feel curled up inside of me. Or maybe I'm only seeing what I want to see.

"We're going to take off," Dad says and stands to his feet.

Jasper doesn't hear him or notices the hand in his face. It's only when I move does he get up, but even still he doesn't acknowledge Dad and practically knocks him over to get to me.

"Before you bail, like, let me get your number."

"Um, okay." I reach into my back jean pocket and pull out my phone.

"Rad device you got there," he says. "Did you steal it?"

"What? No! I mean…" I'm lying, because I totally did swipe it from a Verizon Wireless store, but his spot-on insinuation gives me a total brain malfunction. I'm shaking now, and I am trying to operate my phone and think at the same time. It's a colossal failure.

"Here, let me," he says with a laugh, and takes it from my hands. He's right up on me and taps away quickly, adding himself to my contacts. I think he's done, but he throws his arm around my shoulder and bends to my level. Holding the phone out, I see he has it on camera mode and our faces fill the front screen. "Smile, Bean."

Even though having him this close to me is overwhelming and my stomach flips and flutters, I smile with ease. There is an artificial camera click. The moment in time is saved, and when Jasper pulls it back up to review it, I amazed how great the picture is. He looks otherworldly and perfect, but the shocker is that I don't look half bad. The lightening in this room is fantastic. You can't even see the dark circles under my eyes, and my haystack of hair manages to seem almost on purpose.

"That's dope," he says, and maintains his arm around me as he texts the picture to himself. He even pulls me in closer, and his hold on me is tight. It's hard for me to take peeks up at him without being noticed or straining my neck into a cramp, but I get by with a few sneaked glances.

_Buzz, buzz_… a second later.

Jasper steps away from me to reach into his left pocket. This disconnection is a bummer, but the grin he gives when my number and picture pops up on his phone is awesome. Despite myself, and my promise not to show him how much I like him, I smile too.

"_Ahem_," Dad clears his throat, "I hate to interrupt picture time, but we need to go."

The Chief from yesterday years is back and in full force. There is no stoner quality in the stern look he gives Jasper. There is all cop and law there with no in between. The two inches of distance we'd maintained for the last five minutes becomes a mile.

"Right," Jasper says and hands me back my phone. "I'll just walk you out."

Dad comes up to me and grabs my arm. He yanks me in close, as if he's escorting me to lock-up. I try to jerk away, but he's got a firm, unrelenting grip. We get to the door that Jasper has wide open for us.

"Thanks, J-man," Dad says.

"Anytime, bro."

I try to get one last glimpse of him and at least apologize, but Dad is pushing me into the car. By the time I do get a chance to look back, Jasper is gone. I slump down in my seat, embarrassed and pissed that Dad went all fatherly on me—considering all the years he hasn't been there.

"I can't believe you did that," I say under my breath, but he has wolf ears.

"It might not seem like it," he says and turns over the engine. It sputters and limply roars to life, "and might not always have been clear, but I do care about you."

"And that's how you show it? By taking me to your drug dealer's house to buy weed and then getting all mad because he's nice to me?"

"That boy isn't right for you."

"Says who? You?"

"Bella, I know you can't understand things now, but when you're older..."

"No, you know what, just stop, okay? You decided a long time ago to treat me like the daughter of a friend—"

"That's a running joke between us and you know that."

"But he doesn't, Dad! That joke only works with Mom."

Outside of our quiet dinners at home, (and the fact that at the time when it was considered funny, I was four years old and clueless to its meaning), that playful gag of his is just cruel.

"Fine, all right, I didn't want him to know you were my kid."

The truth comes out and I want to die of heartbreak.

"Why?" I choke back the pain. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"No! Don't you ever think that," he says, and goes to hold my hand, but I move it away.

"Then why?"

"I was protecting you."

"From Jasper?" I want to laugh, because even though I shouldn't trust him, I do. He would never hurt a fly. There is nothing but pure harmony in his eyes. "Your dealer is not to know I'm your daughter, because that's top secret, but all my problems with mom and Arizona aren't?"

"He asked what you were like and I told him."

"And being a klepto is my defining attribute? What about all those dance recitals you didn't go to or how I was able to master Choplin on the piano. None of that was worth mentioning?"

I think every father should be proud of their daughter's accomplishments and not their rap sheets. But Dad is a cop, always will be a cop, and will look at their crime instead of the person behind it.

"Damn," he groans, wavering between being sober and high. I can see him fight against zoning out and the glazed over eyes, but he's losing. "Why are you being a drag, man?"

This is not how I want our first heart to heart to go. I'm angry with him, but so tired from the flight and hungry. He won't listen to me anyway. I am running low on breaths as it is and I refuse to waste anymore on him.

"Nevermind, _Charlie,_" I spit out his name, "it doesn't matter."

We don't speak for the rest of the ride. The wind whistles in my ears and whips my hair in front of my face. It is a protective layer, and I use this as a shield to avoid him. It's not until my emotions settle down do I notice the blinking light on my phone. I think it's Mom checking on me, or my best friend Rose, but it's neither. Jasper and my face appear on the screen.

My heart is working up to an insane beat, and I give a furtive look at Charlie, but he's jamming to sixties rock and smoking a roach. Nothing is going to get his attention now.

Taking a breath and gulping it down, I open message one of four.

_**Dont forget. Six tomorrow. Bring a wet suit. **_

"Shit," I whisper.

Where am I going to get a wet suit? Does he not realize that Arizona has zero water and if we do go down the Salt Lake River, the only attire required is a cut-off jeans and a t-shirt? I don't even have a bikini.

I could ask Dad, but I don't want him to get suspicious and ask questions. This leaves me with only one option.

Opening up the next message, I shake my head and laugh. "Of course."

_**Try not to wake up ur dad. **_

How much did Charlie tell him? I'm guessing a lot, even though he denies it. Maybe he's forgetful because he smokes so much damn weed.

_**Don't be mad at him Bean. Ur all he talks about.**_

This makes me curious, and I vow to probe Jasper for more information tomorrow. That's if I am able to breathe and function properly around him.

And then there is the last and final text sent at 4:46PM, and one I'll probably read a million times.

_**BTW ur cute when ur mad.**_

I want to reply back to him, but don't because I am nervous and don't know what to say. No boy has ever been this forward with me. All the guys in my school were still telling fart jokes and wearing the pants down to their ankles. I liked this one guy though. His name was Marcus. He was the loner type and wore these black framed glasses. He talked poetry and conspiracy theories. The kid was a genius, and sexy, and I'd followed him around school for a whole semester. I even lost my virginity to him. The two seconds that it lasted it was one of the happiest times of my life. I was in love and swore forever. But then he caught me stealing one of his mom's necklaces and that was the end of that.

***00***

Dad passes out around six. He had a carne asada burrito with some nachos and drifted off to sleep. There wasn't much of tour in my new home. It's a cottage with one bedroom and one bath. A single lap and we were done. I cringe at the thought of sharing a bathroom with him, but I reluctantly conclude that I don't have a choice.

At least he gave me the bedroom.

The place is small and a far cry than what I am use to, but it's on the beach and close to town. I don't have to walk far to find a surf shop or a store that sells wet suits. The people here are different. They are carrying around drinks that are green and they are super blond and super tan. I feel out of place here, not only because of my dark auburn hair, but my clothes of black are too drab for this beach town. There is one girl I pass on the street that is wearing a doily. It's a dress, I think. Her neon bikini is underneath and she has jewels on her gladiator sandals.

I am still wearing my three dollar flip-flops.

Wandering into a store, I try to act normal. No one is watching me. The girls behind the counter are focused on their phones. That is one of the best things about today's technology, it distracts people. While their eyes should be trained on me, they're all posting on Twitter and Instagram.

It takes me two seconds to find the wet suit and bikini that I want and stuff into my oversized bag. There is no security tag—thank the shoplifting God. They have a way of ruining a good swipe. Many of my clothes today still have holes and require a little patch and sew.

The girls wave bye as I walk out the door. It gives me that thrill, the one Jasper was talking about, but the risk wasn't there. I need bigger game to get the blood flowing again. But today was out of necessity and required simplicity.

I stay out late walking the streets, and don't return back home until past nine. Even then, I just sit outside on the steps and kill time on my phone. Mom calls, but I don't pick up. She leaves a message that I don't listen to. The only person I stay in contact with is Rose. Arizona is still hot and she misses me. I try to keep up with her texts, but continually disappointed when my phone lights up with a new message and it isn't from Jasper. Eventually, I stop texting Rose altogether.

It's too much of a tease.

Around eleven-thirty, Dad pokes his head out the door and tells me to come in. He doesn't seem concerned or ask me where I've been. He does ask if I am hungry and offers to cook me something, but I decline. Dad is high and has the munchies. I can see a bong on the table and smell Jasper's weed in the air. It brings a weird smile to my face and Dad notices.

He disapproves of him, but I don't care. We're both in a situation neither of us care to be in. The best thing we can do is stay out of each other's way. I won't lecture him on his poor fathering skills and he won't try to father me. It's as easy as that.

And if he does insist on keeping me from Jasper, I'll do what I did in Arizona when Mom tried to tell me not to hang out with Rose.

I'll lie and hide it from him.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: This is a prequel to Savages, how they met and mostly their relationship. Towards the middle of the fic, I will jump into the plot of Savages. I told KniNut it will be forty-five chapters or so. I'm hoping it won't seem that long. Slow go at first, but once we get going, it'll pick up. I promise. Thanks for reading. I hope to see you soon.**

**Thanks to KniNut and iDanceCullen for pimping this story out. Thanks to Kmah for being awesome and voting for me nonstop at the Twific Fandom Awards-which, I am up for Undiscovered Gem with My Bella. Go vote for your faves, and while you're there give Sunny some love. She's up for three awards. Trust me, she rocks. **

**And last but never least, a forever thanks to my prereader Brina. She's been cancer free for 3 years! She one of the strongest and bravest people I have the pleasure of knowing.**

**Chapter Four**

Dad is snoring on the couch as I tiptoe past him. The house is dark, and I have to use my phone's screen as a flashlight just to navigate through the mess. Dad wasn't much of a housekeeper, and tends to leave things where he drops them. I just hope he didn't think by bringing me here that I would be all Susie-homemaker, because that is not happening. How can I be expected to clean dishes when my whole life is one big disaster?

It's 5:59 when I get out to the street and sit down on the curb. The sun is rising over the horizon and turns the sky into vibrant pinks and purples. It paints the white stucco homes a perfect blend of these two colors, turning them from a once blah existence into something only an artist can dream up.

I close my eyes, escaping everything as the salty breeze from the nearby ocean twirls around me. It is cool and gentle, and my consciousness begins to drift until I fade way. I see myself standing on a chair. A wooden one, and for whatever reason, I am trying to hang something. The legs are brittle and weak, wobbling underneath my weight. The chair tips too far to one side and I lose my balance, quickly falling to floor.

I jerk awake with my heart thumping hard in my chest. The street is quiet and deserted. The sun is all the way up, and I glance down at my phone. It's 6:10. No call or text from Jasper.

He's late...or maybe, this is his way of ditching the kid and letting me down easy.

In the distance, I hear a low rumble, and then a flash of electric blue catches my eye. An older style lifted Ford Bronco whips around the corner and comes barreling down the block. I jump to my feet and stumble back; petrified this maniac behind the wheel is going to take me out.

It pulls up to the curb and stops with a loud bark of the tires. The tinted window on the driver's side rolls down and reveals Jasper.

"Morning, Bean." He grins and slides his sunglasses up on his head, slapping me in the face with his striking eyes. They are wide open. No lies, just raw truth there.

I smile at the nickname. "Morning, Jasper."

Man, I can't believe how much my memory sucks. It doesn't matter if I'd stared at the picture of us on my phone all night long—which, I totally did—I will always and forever be awestruck by how beautiful he is.

"You set?" He props open the door and gets out. All six foot one of him, maybe taller, towers over me. He's wearing a black wet suit, but the top half of its hanging down. Where there should be chest and abs is fabric. He's wearing a dingy old t-shirt with the words _Berkeley_ written across the front. It blocks my view.

I try not to outwardly pout.

"Um, yeah." I bend down to pick up my tote, but he's already there, standing real close to me, and grabbing my bag before I can. He throws it in the backseat. "Thanks," I say.

"No problem." He appraises me for a long moment.

I feel bare under his scrutiny, and instinctively, I tug down on the end of my shirt. "What?"

"I thought I told you to bring your wet suit."

"I did. It's in my bag. I was just going to change when we get there."

"Change at the beach?"

"Yeah," I say slowly, but then again, I know nothing about California or their laws. "Is that not right?"

"No, it's fine, change wherever," he says, and steps aside so I can get to the other end of the truck. "I just thought I would have to work harder to see you naked."

I'm halfway there when I hear this. "What?" And I look to the driver's side expecting to see him there, but he's not, and before I can turn to go back, his hands are on my waist. He squeezes, hoisting me up in one quick and smooth motion. I grab the edges of the door frame to help me the rest of the way.

He stares up at me as I buckle myself in. "You good?"

I nod, but I'm not breathing. He closes the door and walks around the front. With a moment by myself, I let out all that tension and sexual frustration in a rushed _whoosh_.

_It's innocent_, I say as a reminder, but every part of me wishes that was his way of flirting.

Jasper joins me a second later and starts up the engine. The rumble is no hype, the entire cab vibrates. He puts his hand on the stick that between us and yanks it into gear. We jerk forward, until the truck gain some footing and drives smoothly. He flips a hard bitch and heads out the way he came in. I am nervous now, replaying that moment when he touched me. I can't stop thinking about it, but the silence is uncomfortable and going on for too long. I need to figure out how to talk to him. Then I remember my earlier disappointment and present curiosity.

"So," I gesture at his shirt, "you a Berkeley fan?"

It sounds like a lame and forced conversation, but however benign it may be, it's better than nothing.

"Yeah," he laughs, "you can say that."

"Let me guess, you're a business major."

"Good guess."

"Not really. Everyone and their momma is a business major. I guess it's that whole wanting to be your own boss thing."

"Well, not everyone and their momma have my drive to succeed, let alone my stamina to have two majors."

"You're double majoring?" I ask, unable to stop my jaw from dropping. He bobs his head. "In what?"

"Business and botany."

"Botany?" The term sounds familiar, and it takes me a lot longer than it should, but eventually I put two and two together. "You can major in weed? Wow. Berkeley is cutting edge these days."

"Botany isn't about weed..." he says, and I wrinkle my nose at him, "I mean, it is, but that's not the only reason why I'm interested in it. Plants fascinate me. How they grow, breathe, and the whole biology behind it. This may sound like stoner bullshit, but if you know the science of something, you can nurture it, manipulate it, and improve upon it. With that kind of knowledge and heart," he faces me and leans in, his voice but a whisper, "you can change the world, Bean."

There's this heaviness in my chest, like an elephant is sitting on me, and it's suffocating. My heart speeds up, hammering at an insane beat. I try to keep calm, but his lips are so close to mine. They're red and perfect, and I can almost feel how soft and firm they would be. How sweet he would taste. I want him to kiss me so bad, but I don't know if he wants to. He flirts, or at least I think he does, and touches me every chance he gets. The clues are there, so obvious to anyone with half of a brain, but then doubt is stronger. It creeps up, and I think maybe he's messing with my head.

There is a hazard line: I'm Charlie's daughter and I am sixteen. He's not stupid enough to cross that.

_But he's the one who perused me yesterday…_

The light turns green and there is a loud, insistent honking from the car behind us. Jasper is practically parked in the middle of the road. He's watching me as closely as I am watching him. This needs to stop.

I look away and stammer, "Yeah, totally," as I obsessively tuck my hair behind my ears. It's one of my many nervous and anxious habits.

"All right, bro," he tells the guy behind us with a wave and speeds forward.

The silence between us now is uncomfortable and I hate that. We were starting to reach a place where talking to him didn't cause an inward panic.

"So, um," I risk taking a glance at him—luckily, he's too focused on the road and spares me the heartache, "what year are you?"

I pray he says freshman (however unlikely) just so the years between us won't be that extreme and unlawful.

"Senior," he says, and that hope of mine deflates.

I count the years in my head, assuming he started college at eighteen and counted four years up…_19, 20, 21, 22…Damn it!_

The years between us won't seem that significant when I am eighteen, but now it's too far of a gap. The belief that anything can happen with Jasper is quickly squashed.

"School starts on the twenty-first," he says.

"Of this month?"

"Yeah."

That's in a couple of weeks—fourteen days to be exact. I don't have to be a geography genius to know Berkeley is good distance from Laguna.

"I'm heading back up there and will be gone until Thanksgiving break. I can't mess around as much and I'll be busy," he says this, and what sounds like a guy ditching a girl for _thee ol' I'm so busy school excuse_, the way he's saying it is much different. There is regret and disappointment there.

And the mere thought of not being able to see him for weeks to come saddens me. He makes me feel sick to my stomach for most of the times because I am so nervous, but then there are those moments where I feel special and beautiful. He looks only at me. It's a high no drug can duplicate.

But I'm a crazy, stupid little girl, and I have to remind myself I don't know him enough to miss him. If he moves away and I never see him again, I will survive.

I think.

***()()***

Jasper leans against the side of the bronco as I get changed in the backseat. I sit there with bikini and wet suit in hand, cursing myself for not doing this in the privacy of my own bedroom. He's being a gentleman though, not stealing glances like Johnny Castle, but eventually a two minute change goes on for fifteen minutes and he grows impatient.

He taps his knuckles on the window. "We're losing sun, you almost done in there?"

I tie the back of my bikini. "Yeah, give me a sec."

The wet suit is next, but I have problems right out of the gate. My foot gets stuck in the tight, elastic fabric and I can't pull it up. The lack of adequate space is another hindrance. I don't want to admit that I am having issues to Jasper and ask for his help. I'm trying the cool and suave approach to take the focus off my age. It's not working.

"Bean," Jasper issues another warning.

"Damn it!" I hiss under my breath.

One second turns into several minutes and I'm not any closer to being dressed. This is so frustrating, not to mention embarrassing, and I have to suck up my pride and get Jasper involved.

Climbing over the driver's seat, I open the door and poke my head out. Jasper turns to me with furrowed brows, but his slight irritation with me is wiped away by my pathetic plea.

"I need you to help me with the wet suit. I can't get it on."

"First time, huh?"

"Yeah, and you know, no one tells you when you're buying them that they aren't as easy to put on as you think."

"That's weird. Most shops will give you a pamphlet for how to put on your wet suit."

I cringe.

"You stole it, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

He laughs, "Jesus, Bean."

"I have a problem."

"More than one it seems." He holds out his hand and I give him the wet suit. He throws it over his shoulder and holds out his hand again. I hesitate and bite the inside of my cheek. He frowns. "I promise you, it can't bite you."

I scoff. "I know that."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Nothing, I just don't...you know?"

"No, I don't know."

"I don't want you to see me," I glance down at my bare stomach, and the shy part of me wants to cover up, "you know, like this."

"You live in California now," he pushes the door open and stands in front of me, "you're gonna have to get used to being in a bikini."

It shocks me and I go to wrap my arms around my waist until I see his face. There is no disgust there. He stares at me, a lot longer than necessary, but there is obvious attraction in his eyes.

Then he blushes, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, and then _he _stammers. "So, yeah, come on, I mean..."

I smile, because this is the first time he's less than confident, and he's too cute for words. "What if I oppose this bikini hierarchy? Will they kick me out?"

"You can oppose anything you want in California," he says with a smirk. "We're liberals. We believe in being green and buying big gas guzzling Hummers."

"So you're a bunch of hypocrites."

He glares, holding out his hand again and this time I take it. "The point I'm trying to make, Bean, is that the only things that get you kicked out of the state are texting while driving and your inane inability to buy things."

_Touche_.

"Home is so different than here," I say, lifting up my foot and putting it in the stretched whole of fabric that Jasper has provided. "A motorcycle cop was texting on the freeway in Arizona." He's shocked by this and I laugh. "What do you expect? We're a Republican state."

"A bunch of cowboys," he says, gesturing for my other foot, and I comply...shit, with him, I'll always comply. "It must be the heat. It drives you all insane."

"Have you ever been to Arizona?"

"No." Jasper moves up from a crouch, pulling up the wet suit with him in one yank and bringing it up to my waist. We're nearly face to face now. I try to back away from him, but he jerks me forward. "I'm not crazy."

***()()***

An hour later on the beach and I have yet to set one foot in the ocean. Jasper takes the time to go over the basics with me. This is the most tedious part of the teaching. I try not to sound irritated when he explains to me what a surf board is, but come on, seriously. I may be from Arizona—where texting while driving is okay and water is considered a luxury, but I'm not clueless.

It's just not what I expected, at all. I thought when he invited me there would be more touching and closeness, but so far the only thing I have been doing is dry humping is his board.

Which is definitely not as fun as it sounds.

Finally he gets to the real meat of the lesson and has me lie down on the board. I demonstrate my paddling technique, which makes me look silly and several people snicker as they walk by. Maybe I look as novice as I feel, but being a professional surfer is not the point of being here. I came here to be closer to Jasper-that's it.

And watching this boy in his element with a wet suit so tight it might as well be skin is better than shoplifting.

What made me ponder the wonder that was beneath his board shorts yesterday are answered today. He's not without, and God has blessed him. I try to not stare, but every part of him is there for me to see, and as a result, my attention span is short. I keep getting distracted by the sweat on his body as it rolls down the peaks and valleys of his hard and defined muscles. It's these little droplets of heaven that become my fixations, often leading me into not listening to Jasper and missing key points in his training.

"Bean, what are you doing?"

I squint up at him. "Huh?"

"You're lying there like a beached whale. Jump up on the board."

"Okay…" and I am not sure how to do this, but try to mimic what he showed me earlier. It's all about upper arm strength. Focusing my attention harder than before, I place my hands on the board and push myself up. I wobble to my feet like Bambi, quickly lose my balance, and fall face first into my shame.

"Wipe out," Jasper says. He crouches down next to me as I am spitting sand out of my mouth. "We're going to be here daily until you learn how to surf."

"I'm a lost cause," I grumble and sit up.

"Maybe so," he smiles and rubs my cheek with his thumb, "but I can't leave you here like this and expect to go back to school with a clear conscience."

The smart ass in me wants to make some snide comment about him helping the unfortunate, but the look in his eyes tells me that I am no charity case to him.

I'm more.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Thank you for reading and reviewing. I know you're all anxious to meet Edward and the pace is too slow, but I promise to make it worth the wait. Let's give Jazzy-pants a chance. Aaron Johnson is a good visual for this man (I'm just sayin'). **

**See ya soon.**

**Thank you to the supporters of this fic: Annie Butts, Sunny Day, Dancey Cullen, Kmah loves to read, and Brina the Brian. You're all wonderful to me. **

**A special thanks to Brina the pre-reader, love you and I want some cheesecake.**

***All the mistakes are mine.**

**Chapter Five**

Everyday Jasper picks me up in the morning and teaches me how to surf. I'm getting pretty good at pushing myself up on the board. The trick is you gotta get to one knee first and then slowly rise to a semi-standing position. The ocean will rock you, or so I am told, and you need to keep your center of gravity with your feet. All the weight is rooted there. If the sea leans, you lean.

This is the one concept that makes sense to me. All ballerinas know the importance of balance. It's what keeps us from falling and busting our heads or breaking legs—which still happens, even under the best circumstances.

After just a day of these lessons, I don't feel and look as ridiculous. Jasper is also being more hands on with me. It's for the sake of my training, but it still gets my heart fluttering. The simplest of touches, like squeezing my arm in reassurance or brushing hair from my face when the wind picks up, leaves me hyperventilating. If he didn't know any better, he would probably assume I was asthmatic or had some odd respiratory issues.

By the third day, he says I'm ready and takes me out into the ocean. I catch a wave, but it's little and nothing to brag about. Four year olds are doing what I am doing. It does give me confidence, and by the fifth day, I am actually surfing...like really surfing.

I'm no pro, by any means, but Jasper says I am a natural. Not too many people learn as quickly as I did. But now I am addicted. It's a high like no other. The way I feel when I am in the water is powerful. I'm in control of my body and balance. Like my ballerina days, I feel elegant and beautiful. And surfing is a lot like dancing. Water is your partner. There is a give and take. You move with the waves and rocking of the ocean like a rhythm. It encompasses everything.

I don't want the song to ever end.

It's Sunday, an entire week has passed since Jasper first brought me out here. Half the days with him are already gone. He'll be leaving soon. These days of surfing with him, getting to really know him, makes the deadline to when he goes back to college a million times harder. If I was smart, I would have stayed away from him. Cut the weak link between us before it bonded into something that is indestructible.

I know once he's gone, I'll never hear from him again. He tells me every day in so many ways.

"_I'm going to be busy this year."_

"_I got to keep my head in the game."_

"_Maybe I'll come back for Thanksgiving, but I think I would rather stay. Work hard now and blah, blah, blah."_

I get it. He's not looking to get into a relationship with an underage girl. I'm not an adult. I can't drink with him or his buddies. And then there is the overwhelming conflict of interest: I'm his customer's daughter.

What confuses me is why he would even bother? I see the way the girls look at him and he's not desperate for dates. He has spent every day and some nights with me since my arrival. I wasn't a charity case. That I decided the first day. But if he had no interest in seeing me again, why go through all the trouble of teaching me to surf and getting to know me? It's not like I'm some hit it and quit it conquest to him. He hasn't even tried to kiss me or anything.

It's frustrating. The boy brain is way too complicated than what my mother always told me. She was blunt and wasn't shy to tell me like it is.

"_All men ever want from you is sex, Isabella—and then they expect you to cook for them." _

Maybe I'm over thinking it. Maybe it's not all that convoluted. Maybe he just wants to teach me how to surf. That's it—nothing more and nothing less.

"Here, Bean." Jasper nudges me out of my thoughts with his arm and holds out a joint.

I take it and inhale deep without hesitation.

This is tradition, particular one Jasper started when he was twelve, but in my mind it has always been ours.

We surf all day, and then sit on the beach smoking weed and watching the sun set.

When he first offered it to me, I refused. Drugs weren't my thing. But Jasper explained the physiology behind every seed that produces the leaf of a marijuana plant. It's from the earth, he says. It minimizes chronic pain in cancer patients. It treats depression. There are so many positives to the drug. It's not just about a giddy high.

He had me curious, but the first inhale of his special grown weed made me a believer.

Blowing out the smooth smoke, I gazed out into the horizon. The setting sun cast this beautiful burnt orange that set the calm ocean on fire. It's breathtaking. It's a little piece of Heaven on earth, and one of many wonders that Laguna has to offer. These moments with him makes me miss Arizona less and less.

But this weed..."Damn," I take another hit, "what is this?"

"It's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, what..." I pass it back to him. "Where did you get it?"

The flavor is rich, but it's the high that made it unique. Strong and fast, it washes over you with a wave of warmth. My whole body and mind is relaxed. Just one hit. That's all it takes.

"My bro is a navy seal and smuggled in some seeds from Afghanistan a few months back."

"That's serious business, but I like his method."

A fellow thief.

"He's a crazy asshole," he takes two quick puffs, holding it in deep, handing it over to me—to which, I happily partake, "but he knows good weed and he knows me."

A long, savory inhale and my eyes roll back. "So you took the fruit and sinned."

"Harvesting is not a sin."

Hippie bullshit, but we live in the real world, and I'm not afraid to remind him.

"Selling an illegal substance is."

"By who's law? Man's?" His eyes once a pale, whirlpool of blue turns into a cavernous, black abyss in within a split second. "They are a violent and narrow minded species. Savages among the civilized."

There is a quiet storm in him, brewing and accumulating, and I want to pull my hair out. He drives me insane with the way he speaks and moves with such passion. My lips crave to feel his on mine. He knows what he's doing to me. I can see it in his smirk or the way he bangs his knee on my knee. It's no accident. Every touch is purposeful.

Somehow that just makes it worse.

"You're above them? These savages?"

I'm teasing, because I know that he's above us all. He's different than anyone I've ever met. There's compassion in his eyes. He feels everything around him and takes the emotions of people upon himself. It affects him more than he'll ever care to admit, but I see it as clear as a picture in front of me.

If anyone can impact change in this world, it's him.

"I'm evolved and see the potential here." Jasper leans in close, an inch of space between us, as he breathes in the sweet smoke that encases our bubble. "This is our future."

Out of all things he just said, I hear only one word and I know that one word doesn't include me. Considering all the previous words he has spoken to make me believe otherwise.

These last days with him are final.

Unless, I make it known to him that his words apply to me.

"I was thinking." I hold the joint out to him. It's nearly gone.

He takes a hit and holds it in. When he speaks, it's a grunt. "About what?"

"About when you go back to school…"

My heart is pounding her plead to drop it_. _

_It doesn't matter what happens after he leaves—Bum, Bum! _

_We're on our own—bum, bum, BUM! _

Jasper eyes bore into mine. "Yeah, what about it?"

"I was just…"

_Don't break me—us, more than we need to be. Ignore the truth._

_Do __**not**__ ask it. _

But I am too many puffs past being the meek, unsure Bella and what is left is my no bullshit persona Bean.

"You keep talking about how busy you'll be, and that's all good and fine, but I am letting you know _right now_ that I am the exception."

I can't believe how bold I'm being. He's not mine to claim. There is nothing tying him to me. But I don't care. He's impacted my life past the point of return. I'm hooked on him.

"Is that so?" Jasper holds my gaze as the corners of his mouth twitches, fighting back a smile.

"Yeah, and I don't care if it's midnight and you're so exhausted from studying, I will be getting a text from you, because we are friends and that's how friends treat each other." I snag the joint from his fingers and keep it.

I don't look away to prove that he doesn't intimidate me.

"Friends, huh?" He nods, his brain soaking in my word and its meaning. "We can do that."

I grin. "Good."

Jasper plucks the joint from my lips to finish it off and turns towards the sunset. "For now."

***()()***

After the beach goes dark, we go grab something to eat (munchies and all that). There is a place close to my house that Jasper loves. It's called _Hearties_, and it is all organic food. There are hot dogs and hamburgers and fries to die for. My favorite thing there is the beef burger with bacon, onions, sautéed mushrooms, and avocado. The first time I ordered that, Jasper said I was a true Californian.

I beam when he tells me things like this, as if somehow it gets me closer to him.

After we sit down in our booth and start notching on our food, Dad blows up my phone with endless calls and texts.

In the past day or so he's been increasingly aware of my relationship with Jasper. Even though I leave before he wakes up and return way after he's had several hits off his bong and passes out on the couch. I'm not sure when this strategy of mine had went astray (probably during the nine hours I'm gone) but now it's 7:00 PM and he's sober and asking where I am and who I am with.

I groan.

"Charlie again?" Jasper asks.

"Yeah," I hit ignore and shove the phone in my pocket, "he's relentless."

"He's just worried about you."

I scoff, and pick at my food. My appetite vanished and gone now. "He wouldn't care if I was lying in a ditch somewhere bleeding, just as long as I wasn't lying there with you."

He laughs.

"It doesn't bother that you can sell drugs to him, but hanging out with me is off limits?"

"No," he says through mid-bite of his organic hot dog, "because it's not personal."

"He said you weren't a good guy."

Technically, Dad said Jasper wasn't right for me, but whatever, it's all the same.

"I think Charlie would say that about any guy who was trying to hang out with his daughter."

"I'm not his daughter, remember?"

"Listen, Bean," he pushes his food aside and leans across the table, "your dad has had it rough, but he loves you. Should cut him some slack."

"I need to cut him some slack? Why? He hasn't really been a father to me for almost three years. No birthday cards, no calls, no nothing from Charlie Swan in all that time. Maybe he should cut me some slack."

I am breathing hard from my anger. It came out of nowhere. The taboo topic that is my father and my abandonment issues run deep. Yes, I know, he lost a partner and nearly died himself, but I was there for him. Mom and I flew out here to help him get back on his feet, but he shut us out. He shut everyone out and became some hippie recluse. It hurt, because my love for him was unconditional and I thought he felt the same way about me. But I was also naive and stupid. It took me a long time to see the truth.

I'm Charlie Swan's daughter.

There are always terms and conditions with him.

"Hey," Jasper grabs my hand and squeezes it, "I don't know shit, okay?"

This is also how he apologizes.

Half chuckling, I pull away from him and wipe away a tear. "Okay."

"Let's bail." He stands up from the booth and drops a ten on the table. "I wanna show you something."

***()()***

It's a short drive up to the coast, but Jasper doesn't clue me in on where we're going or what he wants to show me. It's unnerving and exciting to be left out of the loop. Then again, I'm not much for surprises, and so, of course, I pepper him with questions.

He ignores me by turning on the radio and yelling the song instead of singing it. It makes me like him all the more because perfect is annoying and boring. Flaws are what makes us human and unique, and in Jasper's case, somewhat attainable.

"We're here." He shuts off the headlights and goes pitch black. There is a very faint and ominous silhouette of his face when the moon pops out from behind the rolling clouds and illuminates the sky, only to disappear once again.

"Is this where you murder me?" I slowly unbuckled my seat beat.

"Maybe you should of thought about that before you got into the truck," he says in a sinister, flat tone, and I start to actually doubt his intentions. He sees this stiffness in my posture and laughs. "Relax, Bean, I'm too much of a tree hugger to actually kill anybody, all right?"

"Okay." I reach for the door handle and stop abruptly. "But just you remember my father is a cop. He has the power to find people. "

"Charlie's DEA. The only thing he ever chases is drugs."

He gets out of the truck and leaves me there speechless. I always knew Dad was a cop and caught criminals, but I never really paid much attention to his specialty. Hell, I didn't even know until just recently that there are different divisions and the cops on the streets are not ones solving the crimes.

My door swings open and Jasper helps me get out. The landing is soft and pliable. There's a fresh, dewy moisture in the air and in the distance I hear the ocean.

"You took me to a beach?" I searched for his face, my eyes eventually adjusting to the darkness, and I see him smile.

"Yes, but we're not here to surf." He takes my hand and pulls me forward. "Hold on tight to me, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." I grasp the back of his shirt and follow him down a slanted hill.

It's a rough terrain with slippery pebbles and random shrubbery. I stumble a few times and get a face full of Jasper's back. But he smells like the ocean, salty water and fresh algae, mixed with a hint of coconut. He's a perfect day, a cool breeze with the warm sun on my face.

I fall once more on purpose.

We stop close to the water and sit down in the sand. The moon peeks out and gives off a bluish glow, too dim to see anything well, but I don't think that is why Jasper brought me out here for the view. I try to make out the curves of his jaw and the slight growth of hair on his face. My hand twitches to touch him and feel the prickles on my fingertips, but I restrain myself and focus on something else.

"So you got me out here, what do you wanna show me?"

"Close your eyes and lie back."

"This better be good." I take a deep breath and do as he says. There are so many things going through my mind. The sound of the waves crashing close by as the tide nips at my toes, and it's all so peaceful...and like home to me. A calm flows through my veins, but even more than that is the excitement and anticipation stimulating my blood. I am sensitive to everything, all sounds and sensations. Jasper is my focus. I feel his energy and heat radiating from his body. He breathes and I move to get closer to him.

"Open your eyes, Bean."

Slowly I open my eyes and gasp. Millions and millions of stars litter the sky. It's enchanting, almost surreal, and I've never seen anything like this in my life. They shimmer in clusters, tightly knitted together, and I grin like a kid when I spot the big dipper. Far from the city and its atrocious lights, a piece of God's work is displayed in a way you know something greater is out there. A world this beautiful and magical can't be a mistake. There is purpose and reason behind every little twinkling dot. Nothing is accidental.

Meeting Jasper was meant to be.

I knew he was going to determine and influence my life in a big way.

"It's really something, huh?"

I nod, biting the shit out of my lip.

"I come out here sometimes to think. When you see this world on a grander scale, you realize how small and insignificant you are. There's this a whole universe out there, never ending where time doesn't exist, and it scares the shit out of me. How can something be that huge, right?"

"Yeah," I whisper.

"But then it gives me hope," he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, "because there's nothing that is beyond my reach."

I sit up and scoot over in the sand, unable to lie there next to him. There had to be a line drawn somewhere, because to be so close to what you want so bad, have it touch you in an intimate way, but still be a million light years from having them is torture. Jasper and I, we're an illusion—just like the sky above us filled with twinkling stars. He had me believing that If I reach out far enough, my fingertips will touch the big dipper, but he's wrong.

It's impossible, and something I'll never, ever possess.

"Hey," Jasper sits up and rubs my back, "What's wrong?"

I want to pull away from him, but don't. Even my own heart is against me.

"Nothing."

"That's chick code for something, right?" He bumps shoulders with me, and I smile, only a little, but he can't see it. "Come on, Bean. Did I do something?"

"No," I say, turning to face him and be honest, but he's already there staring at me. The tip of our noses touch, and it becomes all too real for me. I scoot my ass back to get distance from him. My line in the sand is a weak and easily snipped.

But he follows after me, disregarding my space, and takes a hold of my face in his hands. Despite the darkness, the moon gives off just enough light for me to see his eyes. They are open, wide, a pale blue and boring into mine. He doesn't say anything, but leans in, his lips ghosting over my eager ones. His hot, sweetened breath is on me, slow and shallow and maddening. This is the closest he's ever been, and I wait, my heart pounding fast and hard. It's painful in my chest, yet thrilling to hear in my ears. Like a dramatic drum rolling for the biggest moment of my life.

I close my eyes, waiting and waiting for him to kiss me. Seconds tick by as he rubs my cheeks in circular motions with his thumbs, but he doesn't advance his lips. They are still, just hovering over mine. All my energy to jump the gun with him goes to my fingers and I dig them into the sand. When it feels like I've lost my will to be strong, Jasper finally takes action, but it's in the opposite direction of my whispered pleas.

"I should take you home." His arms drop to his sides and all the warmth he had on my face disappears.

"Yeah, okay, whatever," I say, my voice so small and depleted.

When Jasper stands, he doesn't offer his hand to me. Instead he shoves them deep down into his pockets. I get to my feet and open up my clenched fists, letting the sand of my anticipation and foolish fantasies sprinkle down and return to where it belongs. He turns towards the path that leads to the truck, but I don't move, taking one last look at the stars. They are different now. A trillion miles away from where I stand, their brilliance has faded into tiny balls of gas, and I know no reach of mine will ever be good enough.

They are just too perfect and too old for a girl like me.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thanks to the usual suspects and supporters of this fic. (Annie Butts, Kmah, Sunny, and so many more) All the readers and reviews means a lot to me and keep me excited about the story. If you're all in, I'm in.**

**Thanks to my pre-reader, Brina, and her devotion to good wood.**

***All the mistakes are mine.**

**Chapter Six**

Boys suck.

They try to say girls are the problem, we play games or whatever, but that's a lie boys tell so nothing is ever their fault. I didn't put myself out there with Jasper, but I wasn't coy with him either. I'm not that mysterious. My face displays every emotion I feel at that precise moment, and Jasper would have to be stupid to not know I felt rejected by him.

He tried to make amends on the ride home, by telling jokes and making promises about the future he'll never keep. I was gracious, nodding and smiling, but I kept replaying the evening over in my head.

I could still feel the electricity in my lips, where he teased me by being so close, but never making that final, lasting connection. It didn't matter how many times I rubbed them to get the memory out, they tingled with want. Like most things in my body whenever I was around him.

Whatever, I don't care.

He's leaving in four days. He'll be out of my life and I can forget about him. That's probably best. He's too old for me—not to mention Dad's drug dealer. There are too many cons to rationalize the pros.

_But his smile..._

Maybe he's not that into me, and that's fine, I get it, but just say so, damn it!

Don't flirt with me, or touch me, or act like you're going to kiss me under the freaking stars?

That's cruel and not cool.

And it's not like I'm asking for much. Just a clear cut statement that tells me exactly what kind of relationship Jasper wants. He defines it, but at least I get to choose whether or not it's something I can do or want to do.

"_And why didn't you tell him this_?" Rose asks.

My best friend is a mere five hours and hundreds of miles away from me, but it's like she's on the other side of the continent. I want to be home in Arizona with her. I want to be crying over Jasper in her room and on her bed with that fluffy _Dior_ comforter pulled up to my chin and a big pint of chocolate mint ice cream in my face. But no, I'm here in Laguna instead, squatting on some steps outside my father's apartment.

"Because he's leaving in a few days and I don't want to be that chick, you know?" I sigh with exaggeration and brush off some remaining sand on my leg.

"_What chick_?"

"You know, the clingy girl, the one who gets all weird and needy with a guy she's known for only a week."

"_Oh, that's crap, and you know it."_

"How is that crap?"

"_Because you didn't even know Marcus, but you still followed that geek around school for three months and did everything for him without actually getting on your knees to suck his dick in homeroom_."

I laugh, but keep it low. Dad is probably awake and I don't want him to know I'm here. The more time I can spend avoiding judgment the better. The calls and texts stopped about an hour ago, but his last message to me sent a clear warning. I'm in deep shit.

"Yeah, well, that shows how much you know," I whisper. "I totally sucked his dick in homeroom—and your mom's bathroom!"

"_Eww, you slut_," Rose snorts.

I can see her face so clearly, all scrunched up with disgust, but even still, she's beautiful.

Model even.

Tall, curvy, and stacked, Rose has an older woman quality guys of all ages go crazy for. She's so pretty and blonde, you would write her off as a Scottsdale snob like me, but Rose is first class AJ trash and got the sticky fingers to prove it. Two dysfunctional souls like ours could only meet in the backroom of Dillard's waiting for the cops and our parents to come pick us up.

I got caught stealing some shoes and she got caught with something expensive, like _Gucci_ or whatever.

"_Come on now. Quit the bullshit. What's the real reason?"_

It drives me nuts how well she knows me, but she doesn't feed me insincerities to pacify me. If I'm acting like a bitch, she'll tell me. We told each other, hurt feelings or not, truth is always first in our friendship. Growing up surrounded by hypocritical liars, it is a breath of fresh air we both so desperately sought.

"He's older than me."

"_So_?"

"So, that's why I could do those things with Marcus and not Jasper. I could be my age and not feel stupid or immature. We were on the same level and…"

"_And Marcus was a geeky virgin with mommy issues?"_

"Yeah, okay, whatever—_you_ didn't like him. Can we move on now?"

"_Yes, I'm sorry, go on."_

"With Jasper, I want to be seen differently by him. I don't want to come off as sixteen. I want to be a cool, badass chick that doesn't pick at and dissect the things he says. The kind of girl guys chase because she's so indifferent she's unattainable." I bend over and rest my forehead on my knees. "Ugh, I don't even have a driver's license. I'm, like, the poster child of statutory rape."

"_Well, you are sixteen and you can't get around that."_

"What astute observation there, Rose. How is this supposed to help me?"

"_I'm just saying, it sounds like the age thing is more of your hang up than it is his."_

"Then why didn't he kiss me?"

"_Why didn't you kiss him_?"

"Because…"

"_Because what? You want to excuse yourself from any fault but blame everything on him? How is that equal? He's gone ninety percent of the way since you've meant him. What have you done? Show up? If you don't want to seem sixteen, stop acting like it and grow some woman balls. Because a woman, Bells, she would've kissed him."_

I replay what happened on the beach with my Rose-colored lenses and I see it for what it truly was. Jasper didn't reject me, I rejected him. He held my face and put his lips to mine, all he was waiting for was me to tell him it was okay and make the last move. If I wasn't such a coward and a taker, I would've known to cross that centimeter of distance, but I hesitated for a fraction of a second too long. He took it as a clear indication that I didn't want to be kissed and backed off.

"Ugh!" Throwing my head back, I want to scream because of my immaturity and stupidity. "Why did you tell me that? It's not like I can go back and change it."

"_I'm not going to lie to you._"

"I know, I know. Now I just feel…ugh. Fuck!"

This I say too loud and it carries through the apartment complex, echoing off stucco walls and windows. I clap my hand over my mouth and stare at the door to Dad's house. Rose is laughing at me because she knows what I've done.

"Maybe he didn't hear me," I say under my breath, but my time alone is ending because I watch in slow horror as the door creaks open and Dad peeks out. He sees me on the stairs, turning from a calm, curious demeanor into one that's all too familiar and straight from my past.

"You, inside, right now," he says to me, teeth clenched together, and the sound of it all is unnerving.

"Gotta go, Rose."

She is saying something, but I hang up on her. Dad doesn't take his eyes off me the entire way from the stairs and into the apartment. The air is free of smoke, giving new rise to the dust and dirt on his furniture. I know right then he's sober and not chill (which means nothing good for me).

The door slams, shaking the walls and causing a framed picture of me to fall to the floor.

I shudder at the omen.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dad grabs my arm and spins me around. He's red from the neck up and his brown eyes are crazed. "Huh? Do you realize what time it is?"

Shrinking back, I regress into a terrified child getting scolded for spilled milk. "No, sir."

"I was going out of my mind, Kid…" His anger subsides, and his hard features soften. "Do you realize how worried you made me? I thought you were dead or I don't know what."

"I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to worry you. I was out with a friend and—"

"Jasper? Right? You were with him, weren't you?"

I try to deny it with a shake of my head, but he knows better. There is a tired, weariness in his face from years and years as a cop and it has taken its toll on him.

"I told him you were off limits." He releases his grip on my arm and rubs the anger creases from his forehead. He's speaking to me, but mostly all the mumbling is him thinking out loud. "A twenty-two year old man has no business messing with a sixteen year old girl."

He's right, everything about being with Jasper is wrong and illegal, but making him forbidden increases the need to fight against authority. There's an inner rebellion burning inside of me. It's why I quit ballet and piano. It's why I steal shit. The Isabella that everyone expects me to be, all perfect and everything, is not who I am or who I'll ever be.

I'm a mess, destroyed by Renee and Charlie's grand expectations for their little swan.

And so I lie to my father in order to protect what's mine.

"I wasn't with him, okay?"

"Really?" Dad grabs the hood of my sweater and sniffs it. "Then why do reek of his weed?"

I jerk away from and take a couple steps back. "I said I wasn't with him!"

Dad is not stupid, not by far, and I haven't been all that secretive. The first couple of days, I was careful, making up clever alibis, and he was none the wiser. But then I got cocky and sloppy, taking his newly laid back role as Stoner Charlie for granted.

I have only myself to blame for this.

"It doesn't matter if you were with him or not, you're going to stop seeing him right now, young lady. Do you understand me?"

"You can't tell me who I can be friends with."

"Yes, I can. Jasper is six years older than you. It's inappropriate, Bella. As long as you're under my roof, you will abide by my laws. If you continue to see this boy against my wishes, I'll be forced to press charges."

He drops this bomb and walks away.

It takes me a few seconds to recover from the shock of his threats. But when I do, I am livid, and go storming after him in the living room like a raging bull. He's sitting on the couch, packing his bong with Jasper's weed. It's a slap to my face with his overwhelming hypocritical bullshit.

"You can't do that, Dad. Jasper didn't do anything!"

"Yeah, maybe not now, but he will." He laughs, like I'm so naïve and I can imagine patting me on the head. "You don't think he's thought about it? You're a beautiful, young girl, Bella. Of course he has. But I won't allow it. Not with my daughter." The bong is stuffed and ready to be burned. He checks his pockets for a lighter. "You're never to see him again. That's not a request. That's an order. End of story."

"And what if I refuse to abide by your laws?"

"Excuse me?"

I snatch up the bong before he can get his grubby hands on it. "You can't decide to be sober for an hour and then try to dictate my life, Charlie. That's not how parenting works."

"It's Dad,'" he corrects me.

"Since when?"

He grimaces at the dig and nods. "Fine, take the chance and cross me on this, but I will throw him in jail if he lays one finger on you."

This is a promise he thinks he'll keep, but I know him better than he knows himself.

"Go ahead and do what you have to do, but I want you to think long and hard about who you're really threatening, Charlie." I set the bong back down and toss him a baggie of Jasper's specially grown weed. "I'm going to bed."

***()()***

Days pass after that night and there is no contact from Jasper. He heads off to school without saying a single word. Rose tells me over and over again that I need to call him, but I'm too much of a wimp to do anything. My moment with him has passed.

It's over.

Besides, I have too much going on with Charlie. He doesn't discuss his terms and conditions regarding the boy he forbids me to see, because he knows he's won by default. All that fighting and arguing is water under on the bridge to us now. My stoner dad is back to smoking and toking every day and every night. He raves about Jasper's weed and can't get enough.

It's really good quality stuff, but as my last desperate plea of a peace offering, it was poorly executed and used too soon. That baggie was my only leverage against Dad and only connection with Jasper.

Every minute without him is worse than the last. He keeps on fading away from my mind like the morning tide.

I need to get over him and move on…or at least pretend to.

One day in August, Charlie came into my room and announced to me that I needed to get registered for school. It was starting the following Monday and I had to get supplies or whatever. Like I really was going to commit myself to education, but I agreed because what else am I supposed to do?

But damn, being the new girl is not fun. Kids treat you like a freak and I spend all my lunch periods eating in the bathroom. After a few weeks of purgatory, I start hanging out with Alice. She's six months older than me and pretty messed up in the head. Mild bipolar disorder mixed with daddy issues gives her a reckless outlook and a serious passion for prescription drugs. She's rich and bored (which basically means, she's up for just about anything).

Alice is a wild child with mad connections. She can get us into any clubs and the V.I.P rooms, hanging out with glitzy celebrities and drinking gallons upon gallons of expensive champagne. She keeps me occupied and my mind off Jasper.

But out of everything I do to forget him, surfing is my one love and true therapy.

Every day after school, I go to the beach and ride the ocean. Nothing bothers me out there. All my troubles seem insignificant. Things around me slowly start to change. My skin is tan now due to the constant exposure to the sun, but that's not the only thing about me that's different. On a whim one Saturday afternoon, I venture into the salon and have them dye my hair blonde.

Alice, of course, made fun of me and said I was a carbon copy of every bimbo here, but I didn't give a shit what she thought. I liked my hair. It's wasn't all that drastic. A few highlights here and there, but the sun does the majority of the work.

This is my life in Laguna without Jasper. It doesn't suck, actually it's pretty good, but I know what it could be. I got a glimpse of the other side of things and the grass is _definitely_ greener.

I do get occasional texts from him, but they're brief and he talks about school. He's busy, from what I can gather. No partying or girls (or so he says) but he's on schedule to graduate early. This causes some excitement in me, I want to see him, but things are awkward between us and not the same as they were before the near-kiss.

But I am still crazy about him, and even seeing his words on my screen is never enough. I miss him more than my heart can take and it's too painful at times. What's best for me is to cut off all ties with him. No calls, no texts, just quit him cold turkey.

And I do by changing my number.

Time continues to pass in a blur and days turn into weeks and weeks into months. I'm starting to forget about the way he smells or the color of his eyes.

Everything is mundane and blah, but manageable.

Then on my birthday in September, I get a large package in the mail. It has no return address, but the object wrapped in brown paper is oblong and five feet tall. I know what it is and who it's from even without having to open it.

I haul it into the house and propped it up against my bedroom wall. For a solid hour, I stared at the thing, debating with myself and trying to build up the courage to see what was inside. Finally, I just decide to get it over with and peel back the wrapping.

It literally takes my breath away.

The surfboard is a deep blue color, with black and purple splashed in and glossed over with countless stars. The entire sky from that night on the beach is painted on this board. I reach out and glide my fingers over the beautiful, customized art work. It's what he promised me and the impossible is within my grasp. Nothing was pretend with him and everything was real.

Sadly, I can think of only one thing…

_I should've kissed him._

***()()***

A couple more months pass and it's Thanksgiving night. Alice has dragged me to another party. It's one of the biggest events in Laguna. It happens every year. She says I'm lucky to know her, because only exclusive people are invited and she's my ticket. I'm just going along for the weed. She promises me there will be plenty of it.

"This year is better because we have one of our tribe members coming home. He's in the Navy and been away for awhile, but now he's here and this party is for him…_mostly_," Alice says and drives up to the gate.

It's dark, but the surroundings are all too familiar. I've been here before with Charlie. It was my first stop in Laguna.

_Damn it_.

This is Jasper's house.

A memory, long ago, one I'd shoved deep in the pits of my misery, is brought back to the surface. He said something about his infamous Thanksgiving hooplas, but told me so many times he wasn't going to do it this year. School was going to be hell and his parents were going to be in town. All these excuses he gave me sound like lies now.

"Um," I fidget in my seat, "I think maybe we should skip this and go somewhere else."

Alice gawks at me, unblinking and confused. "Have you even been listening to me? This is _the _event."

I don't want to tell her the sad history of the boy under the stars, but I can't see him like this—not now, not ever.

"Look, just drive me home and you can come back. I'm just not feeling good, you know? Bad shellfish and all that." I grab my stomach for the added effect and to drive my bullshit home, but Alice is a selfish bitch and waves off my poorly conceived ailment.

"No, I am not driving your ass home. You're going to this party whether you want to or not." She hammers in the code into keypad and the gate opens. I don't want to think about why she has the security code to Jasper's house. "Trust me, go in have a few drinks and a couple hits of weed, coke, whatever you're into and you'll be fine. You'll thank me later."

"Right," I say, pulling down the visor and fixing my make-up in the vanity mirror. "I look like shit."

In my laziness and haste, I'd put on the bare minimum of gold eye shadow and clear lip gloss. Not that I wear a lot to begin with, but I would have put more effort into my appearance if I would've known I was going to see Jasper tonight.

"You look great," Alice assures me, but I think she's talking about herself as she blots on more red lipstick.

She's the most unique looking person I've ever seen. With wide eyes set against small facial features, and smooth, porcelain skin, Alice looks like a freaking doll. Her hair is black and cut bluntly to her chin. She's shorter than me, but is a spit-fire, and what she lacks in stature, she makes up for with a harsh tongue and sadistic sense of humor.

It's easy to like her and hate her at the same time.

"Here, this should help you loosen up." Alice opens a silver compact and displays a bunch of little white pills. "It's Ativan."

I think it over for about a second before deciding. "What the hell, right?"

Popping two of them in my mouth, I unbuckle my seat belt and get out. The front drive-way is packed with cars, mostly high-end models like Mercedes and Porsche. Tons and tons of people are coming in and out. It's hectic, and the mansion looms over me with its bright Christmas lights and decorative wreath on the door. It doesn't match the thumping techno music pouring from inside, but it's festive and that pisses me off.

"Well, let's get this over with," I say and hook my arm with Alice's.

We walk into the main entryway and floods of memories nearly topple me over. It's like seeing a movie for the second time, but you're different and things don't feel the same. There are so many bodies to squeeze through and my ass gets grab numerous times by unknown persons.

This is whole scene is the opposite of fun. I want to escape this place, but I'm stuck. Alice pulls me around the house, and I am on the constant lookout for Jasper. He's nowhere to be found. It's both a relief and a disappointment. I'm conflicted with what I actually want, because seeing him again after all these months will heal me, but yet destroy me too. The being destroyed part will overshadow any of the healing I may get from seeing him and leave me a slobbering mess.

There is no way in hell I'm going to fall apart that way. Not in front of him. I need space and time to think. But Alice doesn't understand. She's high as a kite and in her party girl mode.

I get my chance when she releases her grip on me to do some shots. Running out of the kitchen, I bolt upstairs and hide in the nearest bathroom. My throat is closed and I can't seem to get air into my lungs. Everything is falling to pieces. My focus dims, going in and out on me. I'm dizzy now, swaying from side to side.

Sitting down on the toilet, I put my head in between my legs and gasp like a flailing fish. Thoughts and memories of him are out of my control. Flashes of his smile, his laugh, and the touch of his hands make me want to scream. I'm trying to talk myself out of this self-induced panic with a simple mantra.

"He's just a boy," I rock back and forth, "just a beautiful, incredible boy."

I'm frozen in time, rocking like a crazy person, until the Ativan finally decides to kick into gear. It's a fast high. The calm I need comes over me with a rush. I breathe in deep, settling my nerves and stopping the quake in my hands.

Standing up, I go over to the mirror and laugh. What a freaking mess. My make-up is screwed. There are two black tears running down my cheeks and my eyes are all puffy and red.

"Get yourself together." I grab a wash rag and wet it under the sink.

Wiping away my brief stint with insanity, I start to feel like myself again. It's stupid to let a boy get me this worked up. So what if we haven't seen each other in months, I've been doing okay, right? I've got my friends (well, one friend) and my surfing.

Things are going good without him. I survived.

I grin at my reflection, fluffing my hair over my shoulders and dabbing more gloss on my lips. There is a lazy gaze in my eyes, like I'm drunk, but I don't really care at this point. Slipping on my sandals I discarded at the door, I go back out to join the party. The second floor is quiet and has less people roaming around. I follow the smokey haze to a side room. It's got couches and a flat screen television on the wall. There are three to four people in here. I pick a vacant spot and plop down. A girl with wild red hair passes me a joint. It's Jasper's weed, I know it from the smell, but the first inhale convinces me. There is no one in Laguna that can grow the herb like my boy can.

Dad tells me this every day as he smokes the gutter shit.

But this is even better than I remember.

"Wow." I close my eyes and fall back into the sofa.

The room spins around me and the chatter slowly fades away. My mind drifts off to sandy beaches and black skies riddled with diamonds. He's there, holding my hand and pointing.

_Touch one_, _Bean_, he says. _Nothing is out of your reach_.

I do as he says because I'm in love with him. He smiles as I stretch my arm out towards the stars, but as soon as I feel it underneath my fingertips it vanishes. Everything goes dark. He's ripped away from me and the dream with him that will never be is gone.

"Don't go!" I open my eyes with a start and sit up. My heart is thundering out of my chest and I'm not sure where I am. Searching the room, I recognize my surroundings as Jasper's house, but see that everyone has left, except for one guy.

He's next to me on the couch, a foot or so away, wearing a blue t-shirt with _Navy Seals_ written across the front. His hair is buzzed like a military cut, but long enough to be considered grown out. He's cute, from this angle, strong jaw hidden beneath a week old scruff. The profile on him would be perfect if it wasn't for the scars. He's got a couple. One is pretty thick and looks like a caterpillar below his right eye. Then there are two more scars, long and jagged on the side of his neck.

The guy is rough looking, dangerous even, and I scoot away from him on a survivor's instinct.

He smirks, but doesn't look at me. "I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not worried," I say, but the tremble in my voice defies me.

"Good to know."

Following the tattoos of blue waves and blacks skulls down his muscular arms, I spot a knife in his hand. He's whittling a piece of drift wood. Flakes of it fall on the floor into a pile. The panic from earlier rises up again and I draw my knees up to my chest.

I don't know who this guy is, but I do know he wasn't here when I sat down. Seeing as I can't keep my eyes off him now, he would be someone I would remember.

"How long you been here watching me sleep?"

"Not long," he says.

"How long?"

He scraps the knife's blade across the wood, slow and deliberate. "Thirty-three minutes and forty-six seconds."

"Really?"

He nods.

Damn, only one hit from Jasper's weed and puts me out for almost an hour? That doesn't seem right. Maybe the Ativan contributed and added to its sedative effect, but the fact that it did scares me. Now I am wondering what went on while I was sleeping.

"So, that's all you did was watch me?" I ask with suspicion dripping in my tone. It's obvious what I am really suggesting.

"Yes, because taking of advantage of unconscious women isn't something I do, okay?"

He finally turns his head to meet my gaze and stuns me with the fire and intensity of his eyes. They are an unusual green, like seaweed, but on the outer irises there's a hint of brown or yellow or even gold. Yes, it's definitely more gold than anything else. It's like staring into a peacock's feather. I am so mesmerized by his eyes and how insanely hot he is, I don't really catch that he's pissed at me.

All I can only do is whisper, "Okay."

"Okay." He gives me a quick once over and then goes back to chiseling the wood. There is a slight shake of his head and a chuckle.

The silence looms between us and I want to apologize for my assumptions. There is something about him that terrifies me, but then there is a feeling of safety. Like him being here while I slept was his way of protecting me, but I don't know why.

I lower my defenses and get closer to him on the couch. "I'm sorry, you know? I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't," he says as a huge chunk of wood is eradicated by his knife and falls with a thump to the floor.

"Okay, um, well, that's good to know. How about we start over?" I extend out my hand. "I'm Bella."

He stares at my offering for a moment, but doesn't respond. I am visibly shaking, biting the shit out of my lip as I wait for him to tell me to get lost or whatever. The guy is intimidating and he makes me nervous, but I'm not sure if it's because he's holding a weapon and could kill me or the fact I have this desire for him to press his blade into my throat. I stare at him, examining every line and feature on his face. He's beyond the calm ocean, but more like a turbulent river, sweeping me under with his strong, relentless current.

It's confusing to have these thoughts.

The last time I felt this strongly about someone they left me for college. This guy, God only knows how wrong he is for me, could be ten times worse of a break.

Maybe I don't care.

"Come on," I say, and take a chance by closing the distance and forcing my hand into his space. "It's not going to bite you."

He sets the mangled wood down on the table and closes the knife, slipping it away in his pocket. He wipes the chips and dust off his palms, rubbing them down the sides of his pants. He reaches over with his left hand and grasps my right, giving me a firm shake.

"Edward."

"Nice to meet you, Edward." I pull away, noting the tingle of his touch, and makes me wonder about his lips. Do they have the same lasting effect as his hands?

"Yeah, you too, Bella," he says and smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes and there is pain there, like he's holding back.

"So, you look like a man who appreciates good wood." I gesture to the lump on the table. It's hacked to death, no distinguishable features about it. "Do you whittle much?"

Edward laughs and picks it up to examine it. "Maybe I should practice more."

"Well, I don't know, it could be a lot of things." Weed makes me bold, and I move just a little more closer until our legs are touching. My hand goes over his as I take the wood away from him. "Like, a, um..." I'm trying to think, but his eyes are me and I can feel his breath waft over my neck. I want to be kissed by him, but it's conflicting, and everything about this night muddled with memories of a ghost. "I don't know, it's just hard, yeah?"

Edward brushes away some of hair and tilts his head to the side. "You remind me of someone."

I pull back to gain some space and much needed air. "Oh, really? Who?"

He studies me a little more. "I'm not sure."

But then everything gets really clear really fast as my past comes colliding into my present.

I hear the name before I see him at the door. My eyes are sore, but Jasper is as beautiful as the night he dropped me off. I glance back over at Edward and he's smiling from ear to ear. This time it's genuine and spans across his whole face. There is recognition in his eyes as he puts two and two together.

"Oh, so _you're_ his Bean."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Sorry for the late post. This chapter refused to be written. It's here now. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to all the readers and the people who've supported this fic: iDanceCullen, Annie Butts, Sunny, and many more.**

**Thanks to my pre-reader, Brina, who always has my writing back—no matter what!**

***All the mistakes are mine.**

**Chapter Seven**

_I am __**his**__ Bean_ repeats over and over as I jump off the couch and go rushing into Jasper's arms. He catches me with an ''_oof_'', lifting me off the floor and hugging our bodies together so tight. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in as deep as I can—and just like that, a memory of our early days filled with sunshine, sandy beaches, and crystal blue waters, sparks the fading flame.

It burns bright.

"Hi," he says with a chuckle, adjusting and widening his stance so we don't go toppling over.

"Hi," I whisper against his skin. There is an accidental hint of him on my lips, throwing my mind into chaos. An overwhelming temptation comes over me and I want to dart out my tongue to get more of his taste, (all salty and sweet) but I push that thought away.

Because as high as I am, I know this is the closest we've ever been and I don't want to screw it up by overstepping boundaries.

Jasper sets me back down on my feet, but always maintains contact by steadying his hands on my hips. I brush the hair away from my face to get a good look at him and all the changes that's happened over the past three months.

He's gotten less sun, but also, he's grown out a mustache and goatee with his cheeks shaven—except for the side burns, which has expanded down to his jaw line. Alice calls it the _Van Dyke_. The majority of the guys in So-Cal are sporting this style.

I miss the clean-cut boy who greeted me into his home. That's all gone now. Jasper's a man, more so than ever, and it suits him.

At least he kept his dreads. I would really hate to see that part of him go.

"It's good to see you," he says with a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. There's deep seeded hurt there.

My heart drops. "What's wrong?"

"We're still friends, aren't we?"

"Of course we're still friends," I say, like that point is obvious.

"Then why did you change your number?"

I feel sick with shame as my impulsive actions and childish behaviors come back to haunt me. What I did that day in October was for self-preservation. I was scared of being hurt by him, so I pushed him away and made the move to let go first. Never once did I believe I'd see him again.

"Did I do something?"

"No, you didn't do anything." I grip his shirt and press my forehead to his chest. This is hard, because lying to him is the last thing I want to do, but right now the truth is much worse. "It's me, or Charlie—I don't know. He doesn't approve of us hanging out and went on a rage. He demanded that I never see you again and that I change my number…"

"Hey, hey," Jasper silences me by taking a hold of my face and forcing my head up to meet his sincere, empathetic gaze, "I understand."

He knew what I was saying was bullshit. Jasper knows me better than I know myself. He may not know why I disconnected my phone, but he knew Charlie wasn't the cause. He may be my father, and supposedly one of my legal guardians until I'm eighteen, but he can't make me do shit. I will lie and steal and cheat to have what I want. That has never changed. Jasper knows that, and this was his way of letting me off the hook.

I cover his hands with mine. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jasper grins, and leans down towards me.

My heart hammers with anticipation and all breathing in and out of my lungs cease. I wait for ten, _unbearable_, seconds for his lips to join mine, but they never do. Just like the night under the stars, something clicks over in that dutiful brain of his and he changes tactics. Dropping his hands from my face and down to my shoulders, he takes a step back. The foot of space between us is like an entire ocean, miles of cold and treacherous waters that we may never get across.

"I'm going to need your new number," he says.

Pushing my disappointment away with a large inhale, I put on my best game show smile and hand him my phone. "Here."

Jasper scrolls through my contacts. "You kept my number," he shakes his head, "and the picture."

"I couldn't delete you _completely_," I say, and I'm not sorry for that.

"No, you just made sure you deleted yourself out of my life _completely_."

That's a painful dig, but I take it because I deserve it. No matter what, I'm the one who wasted these months with him pouting like a brat. This regret of mine grows deeper the more I am near him.

"So," he gives me back my phone and gestures towards my hair, "what's with the blonde?"

"Oh, yeah, about that." I untangle the mop on my head by combing through it with my fingers. Dodging his curious eyes by looking down at my feet, I suddenly feel very bashful under his scrutiny. "Laguna has its ways, you know?"

"You've been baptized."

I jerk my head up. "Baptized?"

"Yeah, like you've entered our waters, seen the error of your Arizonian ways and now have become part of our tribe." He laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me into a side hug. "All I'm saying is you look good, Bean. California suits you."

"Thanks," I say, and take pride in his statement, but I'm not sure why (considering how much I love and miss Arizona). Maybe it's because Jasper is epitome of California and resembling any sort of trait of his gets me closer to him.

"I see you two have met," Jasper says and redirects my attention to my protector with the knife.

Edward is sitting on the couch where I left him, but there is no blade in sight. He's on his phone and doesn't look up. There is a bluish tint to his face from the screen's display. It makes him look ethereal.

"Uh, yeah..." I don't know how to make our interaction sound innocent, so I downplay it. "We've met, like, sort of."

"Not Exactly." Edward's voice is gruff and accusatory. "She called herself Bella."

"But I am Bella."

"No," he says, glancing away from his phone and sets his eyes on me. They're narrowed in contempt, like he's going to whittle the skin off me with his knife, "_you're_ Bean."

I'm sure he feels like I led him on with the near kiss and all, but I refuse to apologize about my feelings for Jasper.

They're real and consume my heart. He's a beautiful, charming, and this undeniable calm force in my life. He's the single wave that crashes on to the shore and keeps my sanity afloat. Everything I want to be that's pure and wholesome is because of Jasper.

He makes sense.

But then there's this gnawing ache I have for Edward. It defies all reason and I hate him for it. This guy is not right for me. He would be nothing but a violent and destructive Tsunami in my life. This guy with the commanding green and possessive eyes poses a serious threat to my survival. If I don't get to high ground before he comes crashing on to my shore, I'll drown.

So, I put up my shields and snap.

"Why would I introduce myself that way to you?" I glare at him. "Only one person is allowed to call me that."

"Yeah," Edward says and looks back down at his phone, "I know."

I'm pissed at myself now, because this little fight between Jasper's best friend and his Bean is very telling. He's not dumb, not in the least, and he starts to put things together. I see the betrayal in his eyes and my guilt for my slutty behavior spikes—_g__ranted_, I am a free agent and can do what I want, but it's sobering.

I stammer out excuses like a cheater would."I swear, Jasp, nothing happened and I didn't know he was your Army friend, and…"

Edward is aware of existence again and scowls with hatred. "What did she call me?"

Jasper waves off the bulldog. "She met Navy, man."

This confuses me. "What did I say?"

Jasper leans down and whispers. "Calling someone Army when their in the Navy, or vice versa, is a huge no, no, Bean."

"You mean they're not all the same?"

"No, and definitely not to them."

I want to smack myself for being so ignorant, but my relationship with Jasper is the pressing issue.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" I put my hands on his stomach and walk him back to the door. We're out of Edward's earshot. "I know how this all might look to you and everything with your friend, but it's not what you think. There's nothing going on between—"

"Hey, this isn't on you, it's on me, all right?" He rubs my arms and smiles weakly. "You snooze, you lose."

***()()***

The thing with weed, Jasper's especially, is that any issue you have can be resolved. You're tense and stressed out? _Boom_! Smoke a bowl. You're in pain and Tylenol isn't working? _Boom!_ Smoke two bowls. You can't stop thinking about your guy's best friend (who clearly hates you)? Smoke a bowl with said life-ruiner—but not only that, you follow after him and put your lips on that damn mouthpiece just so you can swap spit.

Okay.

I'm high.

What are we talking about?

Oh, yeah, about how Edward and Jasper grew up.

They've been best friends since they were babies. They were brought into wealth. Jasper is old money. His family started a bank in the 1800's and have twenty branches spread across the world. Edward is the new kid on the block. The way his family came to build their empire is a bit sketchy. Edward hinted towards some illegal activity by saying that the Cullen's were a bunch of hustlers and swindlers.

_Money is money_, I say.

Being raised in Laguna isn't bad. The boys flourished in it. They did everything together. They went to the same school, did the same things, and surf the same waves. They were practically twins, sharing clothes, surf boards, and same ideal views of the world.

Then 9/11 happened. Edward lost his parents in the North Tower and formed a singular opinion, apart from Jasper.

All the beauty and innocence in this world was jaded by one event that gutted him. He became obsessed with war and the terror on America. He started carrying guns and fought left and right in school. He ended up putting a kid in the hospital, nearly killing him. That would've been the end of Edward and he would've gone to jail, but Jasper's parents paid the family off with a nice, cool 1.2 million sum.

That was a heavy burden on Edward. Indebted for life, he decided to get out of town. The day of his and Jasper's graduation, Edward skipped the ceremony and joined the Navy. He became a Seal and was shipped off to the Middle East within a span of four months.

This was 2008.

Every odd year or so, Edward would come home, more different than the last. Being a solider changed him in ways that Jasper didn't want to see. The kid from Laguna Beach with the greenest, wholesome eyes is damaged now. There is sadness to Edward. The behind the scenes view he has on this world and its evil is something that can't be unseen.

"Violence is a parasite," Edward says. "It slips inside you, infects you, mutating, and slowly killing every part of your soul until you're no longer who you were."

Jasper pats his friend's back. "But you're home now, man. You gotta leave all that shit behind you."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to need another one of these then." He tips back the last of his beer and slams the empty bottle on the table.

I shiver at the sound it makes.

There is something about Edward and his ferocious behavior that excites every damn nerve ending in my body—and that mouth of his…those lips, and how is tongue occasionally comes out and sweeps across them, making them wet and glistening.

I think about him in between my thighs, placing a kiss on the sensitive skin, working his way up and licking me in one long stroke.

But I have to stop myself.

It's wrong to think these things.

"How about I go and get us all another round?" Jasper put his hand on my knee and pulls me out of my thoughts. "And while I am down there, I think it's time to kick these worthless bums out of my house. Do you have to go home or can you hang out some more?"

I sit up in a panic as my stomach flutters and chest tightens. "You mean just the three of us?"

"Yeah…" Jasper pauses and gets down to my level, searching my eyes and sensing my discomfort, "is that okay? Do you have a curfew or something?"

My mind quickly goes over the worst-case scenario of being alone with these two boys. One hates me, this I know, but the other one only see's me as a friend. I doubt anything bad or salacious is going to happen. It's a bit disappointing, but I take it because I crave to be by Jasper's side…and Edward, (I take a quick peek at him over my shoulder) well, he smells good and is nice to look at.

So in spite of the little nagging voice inside telling me this is not a good idea, I put on a brave face and agree. "No, yeah, of course it's okay. Charlie thinks I'm staying the night with Alice anyway."

_Alice! Shit! _

I totally forgot about her. It's been several plus hours since I left her in the kitchen. Is she still even here? Knowing that girl, she's found a guy to hook up with and stranded me. It wouldn't be the first time.

"All right." Jasper stands and pulls me up with him. He gives me a hug and I cling to him by fisting the back of his shirt. "It's really good to see you, Bean. I'm glad you came."

"Yeah, me too," I say and fight off the tears that want to roll. It's silly and naïve of me to really believe I could survive without him. He's my everything.

"Just give me twenty minutes to clear this place out, okay?" He finally releases his hold over me and heads for the door. "Keep an eye on her, man."

Edward salutes him. "Will do, Sarge."

Jasper leaves the room and I am alone with the Tsunami. The quake below the surface is getting stronger, building up the impending wave, and I know it's going to erupt if I don't say something to ease the situation. It would be much easier if I hadn't insulted him with calling him 'Army'. Which, to be honest, I still didn't entirely get why it was such an offensive comment.

"Hi." I sit back down next to Edward on the couch, but there is more than an arm length between us. "Um, listen, I just want to apologize to you for what happened."

"Nothing happened, Bella," he says, short and sweet and to the point.

He stands up from the couch and goes over to one of the many cabinets that occupy the room. There is liquor and snacks in a few of them, but his main focus are the cabinets filled with the water bongs and smoke pipes. He scans the selection, eventually deciding on the purple bong.

That's my favorite color.

I try not to think much of his choice, but among bongs with skulls and superheroes, I know he got that bong for me. It's too girly.

When he sits back down, he's closer than before and our knees are touching. It's distracting, but I push through it and get my damn apology out.

"Look," I say with an exasperated sigh, "I know that, _technically_, nothing happened, but it _would_ have happened if Jasper hadn't come into the room."

"Hand me that baggie," he says, and his forearm brushes across my chest as he points to the right of me.

Ignoring the fact he just felt me up, I reach over and grab the weed for him. He starts preparing the bong for us and I fill the silence with chatter. "I just don't want you to think that I was using you to get back at Jasper or that…"

"What?" Edward pulls out a lighter from his jeans and pushes the bong towards me.

"All I'm trying to say is that, I wanted to and if it wasn't for…" _God,_ why is this so hard? I put my lips to the bong and watch as Edward's flame flickers and lights the bowl stuffed with green, superb weed. It turns into a ball of illuminating cherry, creating smoke that rushes into my lungs. I cough from the burn. "Shit."

Edward laughs and pulls the bong back towards him. He takes a big hit and holds it in, showing me up. "You're Jasper's girl. I get it. He doesn't have to know." He shrugs. "Besides, you were high. Chronic has a way of doing that."

"But that's just the thing. I'm _not_ Jasper's girl. We're friends and…" I don't say anymore, because I'm not sure what I am doing or what I am trying to make Edward believe. I'm taken, whether Jasper ever comes around to the idea or not. He owns every part of my heart and that's the end of it. "It's complicated."

"Not on his end, it isn't."

I take another, deeper inhale, getting the tingles from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Nothing is off limits now. Every thought and frustration of mine becomes a spoken word.

"What is it to him then, because I have no clue? He says we're friends and then he acts like he wants to kiss me, but never does."

"Wait, hold on." Edward blows the smoke out and shoves the bong aside. We've depleted the entire bowl. He shifts closer to me on the couch, practically lying on top of me, our faces an inch from touching. "He hasn't kissed you?"

"No, I mean, well, maybe." It's suddenly very hot in here and I can't think straight. My voice trembles, coming out all mixed-up. "There was this one time on the beach where I thought he might, but I messed it up and—"

"You fucking pussy!" Edward yells and startles me. I look up to see Jasper frozen at the door. "You haven't kissed her?"

My eyes go wide as the scene unravels in slow motion before me. I can't undo what has already been done. It's mortifying. I want to run away from this place and die in peace with my shame. This conversation was never intended to reach Jasper's ears, but Edward has got a big mouth.

Now I am left on an island of humiliation by myself, bent over and hiding my flustered, heat-filled face in my hands.

"I tried," I hear Jasper say, and then a second later the cushion to my right moves and bounces with some added weight. I can feel his eyes boring into me. "A few times, _actually_, but Bean has this way of scaring the shit out of me."

"Fear holds you back, brother," Edward says, and I sense his arm reach over me and pass something to Jasper.

I am stuck between two men I want and desire for different reasons, but it feels the same. The prickly thorns of a rose to my left will puncture my skin and leave me bleeding, while the soft, adoring petals to my right will heal me from the inside out.

But what sucks the most about being caught in the middle is neither part of the rose is mine.

"Yeah, maybe." Jasper bends down and pushes the curtain of hair away from my face. "You set the rules, Bean. You tell me how far you want this to go?"

I feel my age, seventeen and terrified. It's contrary to the affect the weed usually has over me. Where is the bold Bean? Why does she choose this time to hide and leave me to fend for myself? I could kiss Jasper right now. That's what he's asking, but there is something else in this room that is a speed bump. I don't know what it is until he speaks up.

"All right, enough of this shit." Edward gets up from the couch and pushes the coffee table aside with his foot. He picks up the rug and exposes the hardwood flooring underneath. "Let's play a game."

Jasper glances at me with confusion, silently asking me if I knew what was going on, and I shake my head. It's his best friend. He should know him better than me.

"What are you talking about, man?" Jasper asks.

"I'm taking it out of your hands and leaving it to fate." Edward grabs the empty beer bottle from the table and puts it on the floor. With a flick of his wrist, it spins and spins, and then comes to a slow stop. It points at me. "You're up, Bella." Edward holds his hand out to me. "Wanna play?"

"Are we all playing?" I give Edward my hand, but peek over at Jasper. He looks hesitant; rubbing the back of his neck as he internally weighs the pros and cons.

"Why not? I ain't got shit to do," Edward pulls me up from the couch and we both sit down on the floor.

I stare up at Jasper, waiting for him to make a move towards us or the door. This is the moment of truth for him. I don't know what I want him to do. In a way, if he agrees to play spin the bottle, he's agreeing to let his best friend kiss me. It's a game of Russian roulette, but in our twisted version, hearts and feelings are at risk of being shot down and killed.

"Please," I say under my breath, but Jasper hears me and that's all it takes for him to commit.

"Fine," he says and sits next to me. "But no tongues like last time, man."

_Like last time_? How often do they play this game?

"I can't promise anything, bro," Edward says and winks at Jasper.

"Shut up and spin the bottle, asshole." Jasper laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound in the world. The smile he gives me and the soft, tender pat on my leg puts me at ease.

We're okay.

This is okay.

"I think Bella should have the honor of doing the first spin," Edward says.

Both of these boy's eyes are on me. That male attention is powering. I feel sexy. Never in my life have I ever felt this desired. Maybe it's my own imagination going into overdrive with wishful thinking. But when my hand touches that bottle, I can see the anxiety and anticipation in their bodies.

This is a game horny teenager's play, but I am using it as a tool to get what I want without having to own up to it. It's the bottle's decision. I have to kiss you.

What a fabulous device.

"All right," I say and glance up at the boys. "No take backs."

They both nod, submitting to wherever it lands. I give it a hard twist and it spins at a fast speed, making a clunking sound on the wood. For twenty, long, tortuous, seconds, we all watch that damn bottle, wondering where it would stop. I hope it lands on Jasper, but then again, I hope it lands on Edward.

Finally it slows and slows until the long neck of the beer bottle stops on Jasper. Nobody moves, because it's real now. I know it's up to me to kiss him. That's the burden of being the spinner. You can't sit back and wait for it to happen to you.

"Okay." I turn to Jasper, but he's already there and his hands are on my face. He pulls me closer, and I grab a hold of his wrists, inhaling deep as he kisses me.

His lips are soft, unhurried. He's gentle, giving a peck at first, moving to a firmer kiss. It stops everything: my heart, my breath, and time. In those few seconds, I can feel how much he cares for me—and this is not how you kiss a girl you've only wanted to be friends with.

I want more and push myself into him, but Jasper doesn't push things too far with me. It's a sweet and a modest kiss. It's an example of who he is and what we'll be together.

I am in a daze when he's done, my eyes sluggish to open to find his staring back at me. He leans away, but keeps his hands in place (which are now intertwined in my hair).

"Sorry it's taken me this long to do that," he says and kisses me again, but it's chaste and Edward causes a fuss.

"Hey! One kiss per spin!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jasper says, continuing his spin and it lands on Edward.

I laugh, quickly clamping my hands over my mouth. They're still, neither one wanting to make the first move. It's entertaining to see these two boys, all manly and such, having to kiss. And they're clearly uncomfortable.

It's more funny than erotic.

"Come on, guys," I tease, nudging them both. "It's just one kiss. I won't tell anybody."

"Just get over with," Edward waves Jasper forward, "before I lose my nerve and punch you."

"Yeah, you just remember who started this shit," Jasper says and leans over me. He stops abruptly and warns Edward one last time. "No tongue, man."

"We'll see what happens." Edward closes his eyes. "Just fucking do it, you pussy."

"Jackass." Jasper huffs and shakes his head.

This is all amusing and hilarious to me…until, well…until they _actually_ kiss.

It's not long or quick, not as in depth or deliberate, but still kind of hot. I am shocked by the tingle and yearning it causes. Two beautiful boys, (who I assume are straight) kissing right in front of me is a wonderful fucking thing. I am mesmerized by Jasper's lips, so soft and fluent, and how they move against Edward's rigid ones. There is no tongue or anything, but when Jasper is done and shifts back to his spot on the floor besides me, I whimper a little.

A large part of me wanted more from them.

"Your spin," Jasper says and pushed the bottle across the floor.

It rolls and hits Edward's knee. "That was a good kiss, bro."

Jasper flips him off. "Spin the damn bottle."

Without another word or snide remark, Edward twirls the bottle and around it goes. Where it stops, nobody knows. It seems like forever and a day for that stupid thing to make a decision. I am undecided about the possible outcome. Having the two boys kiss again would be _amazing_.

Edward seems like the aggressive type.

Then again, I want to know what he tastes like or how his lips feel.

It's all a win, win for me, really.

And I _rarely_ get to say that.

Then the bottle stops, I hear Jasper cuss under his breath and Edward chuckle.

When I look down, I see it pointing at me.

"Shit," I blurt out.

Edward takes this the wrong way. "You don't have to."

"No," I say and whip my head towards him. "It's the rules of the game."

"All right," he says and puts his hands on my neck. He yanks me towards him, but off to the side, where his mouth is on my ear. He whispers. "I don't do gentle."

I don't get a breath in or out before he attacks my mouth. It throws me off guard, even though he'd warned me. Rough and passionate, he presses his lips into mine, tasting like beer and weed, but I can't get enough. The force of his kiss pushes me backwards and I have to prop out my hands behind me to stay upright.

He bites my lips, sucking them into his mouth. Every part of my body reacts to him. Bursting into an uncontrollable flame, I try asserting myself into the kiss and take back some control, but he's too much of dominate force. He easily overpowers me. His teeth graze my chin, pulling me deeper into him as he squeezes my neck.

Gasping for air, he jerks me back up and releases me.

My mind is spinning.

Opening my eyes, I see Edward smirking at me, unapologetic and cocky. He's proving a point, which I get loud and clear.

"You're spin, Bella," he says, flicking the bottle towards me.

"Um," I tenderly feel my lips. They're swollen and painful to the touch. I look back over at Jasper, but he's not pissed. Not like as I expected. His blue waves of calm are on Edward's chaotic storm green. They are talking with each other, nodding and gesturing. It's a language and bond I don't understand. It all becomes too much for me. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

Jasper quickly stands and helps me to my feet. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, you know how it is, too much fun and all." I give him a winning, proper, well-to-do debutante smile I learned in etiquette school. "Give me five minutes?"

Jasper says sure, even though he knows something is wrong, and Edward is concerned, but gives off the air of indifference. I'm not sure what spooked me. All I know is I need air and a space—away from them!

Rushing out of the room, I stop a few doors down in the hallway and lean my head against the wall. My heart is a hectic beat, matching my breathing, which is labored and short. I can feel the blood pulsating and surging through my veins.

There is the excitement and arousal growing with memories of Jasper and Edward and how they each affect me differently.

It's nothing like I've ever experienced before. How can I want to be with two people, both equally and separately?

It's confusing, and I am not old enough or qualified for this kind of juggling.

"Shit. Fuck. Damn it!" I bang my head against the wall, hoping to knock some sense into it.

Yes, this is stupid and dangerous. I should know better. These beautiful, gorgeous, and brilliant boys are going to destroy my heart, leave me bleeding and aching with pain.

They're going to ruin me.

But…(I smile and touch my raw, throbbing lips)…with kisses like that, I will gladly let them.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Hope everyone had a happy holiday. I want to thank all the readers and reviewers of this story. You guys are awesome and rock my socks off. I can't express how grateful I am for the support. As usual, these ladies (iDanceCullen, Kninut, Sunny, and Brina) stay on my arse to update...and usually **_**right**_** after I update. This story is for you and our love for the movie Savages.**

**And a special, heartfelt thank you to my pre-reader, Brina. She's better than peanut butter fudge—and that shit is delicious.**

**Chapter Eight**

Maybe it's the chronic (as Edward calls it) or my willingness to risk it all, but I decide fairly quickly what I want. The bold side of me comes out in spades and I walk into that room with a goal. The boys welcome me back with smiles, although one is more suppressed than the other, but I make a point to sit right between them. This is where I need to be and that is where I stay.

More weed is smoked, finishing off two bowls within a span of an hour. Then there is beer, but I don't drink. The chronic is already messing with me. The bottle on the hardwood floor is aching to be spun and I'm the first to reach for it, giving it a fling, and it twirls, and twirls and twirls until it lands on Jasper.

He doesn't hesitate to kiss me and this time is different. It's deeper, but still soft and lingering. The care and adoration in his lips makes my whole body sigh. Whenever he touches me, (no matter how chaste and insignificant) I know he'll do whatever to keep me safe and protected.

Jasper embodies everything that's decent and perfect. He'll make me a better person and teach me how to appreciate the world. We'll change it together.

He's the humble peace within me.

By this time, the weed hits me nice and hard. The rest of the evening is a blur. Only bits of pieces stick out and make an impression. My boys kissing are one the most memorable thing about this blessed Thanksgiving night.

It's a little hazy from all the endless smoke spilling from the bong, but I do remember the one rule Jasper made early in the night was broken. I'm the blame for it. Begging and pleading, I harass them both until they agree—and they do, because neither one of them can say no to me.

This part I see clearly in my mind (God knows I keep replaying it). Jasper moves across the imaginary line and approaches Edward. I get really close to them, damn near face to face, and watch with wide eyes as Jasper's kisses Edward again, but this time a wet, pink tongue slips out and touches the other. It's brief; quickly returning to its place, yet still the little bit leaves me struggling to breathe. I want to be a part of it, feel both of their tongues together and add my own, but don't have the guts to voice it. They break away, sit on opposite sides of the room, and continue on with the game.

Edward's spin stops and points at me.

This guy doesn't pretend to be anything but rough. He plunges his tongue into my mouth, taking handfuls of my hair and slamming our bodies together. It hurts: his rushed, forceful, and hectic kind of kiss, but I don't stop it. He makes me feel desired. Like he wants to rip my clothes right off my back and fuck me on this floor. Edward is full of brutality and will corrupt me from the inside out. I know this. It's in the way he squeezes my neck, cutting off my air and making me gasp for more.

He's the raging conflict within me.

I don't remember much after that. A few flashes of all three of us laughing, followed by Jasper's beautiful face smiling just for me and Edward's gorgeous scars under my fingertips, all bumpy and glorious. More sore lips and fluttering heart, I vaguely recall being carried to bed. A hand wisps across my forehead, warm and soft covers are pulled up to my chin, and a faint tickle of a soothing voice in my ear…

"Goodnight, Bean."

***()()***

The first thing I hear is the sounds of the crashing waves and chatty seagulls. The air around me smells like the fresh ocean with a hint of pancakes. It's a surprisingly delightful and comforting combination. The bed beneath me fills like a cloud. I roll over on my stomach and bury my nose in the pillows. All of it is reminisce of Jasper. I don't want to get up now. My dreams of kissing him were so real, I just want to go back to sleep and be there again. Charlie will be in my room soon, like a human alarm clock, but he can kiss my ass about school, because I'm not going.

_Wait._

My eyes fly open as last night's events steamroll themselves into memory.

_I didn't go home._

Reaching out and patting the mattress around me, I'm relieved to find it empty and cold. Okay, so I didn't do something stupid last night, like have sex with the boys. Not that I'd be opposed to such a thing, but not remembering every detail would be a bummer—like, never smoke weed again, kind of bummer.

And I'm way too much of a burner to give that shit up.

Rubbing the crust out of my eyes, I turn my head to the left and get a beautiful, breathtaking view of the ocean. The French doors to the patio are open and a cool breeze is blowing the sheer curtains towards me.

Sitting up, I glance around and don't _really _recognize where I am. This is Jasper's house—that much I know, but I've never been in this room. It's a warm shade of brown from the velvet accent wall behind me to the shaggy carpet below me. It's fairly clean, not much clutter, which leads me to believe it's not Jasper's bedroom, until I see a concert poster of Jimi Hendrix on the wall.

Then I start to notice the little things. The surfboard on the balcony and the board shorts folded neatly on a chair against the far corner on right of me. The whole damn room screams of him now. I pull his comforter up to my face and smile.

He brought me to his bed, but did he stay here all night or sleep somewhere else?

Throwing the covers off me, I look down and frown at my clothes. Yes, it's for certain, I slept in here by myself. Nothing is out of place and the only thing taken off my body was my stupid, slip-on shoes.

I sigh. "Forever the gentleman."

Leaving the room, I follow the smell of food down the stairs and into the kitchen. The door is slightly ajar and I can hear Jasper and Edward talking in low murmurs. Not whispers or anything like that, because they're guys and don't really know how to speak in hushed voices.

I'm nosy and stay put, curious to know what boys say when girls aren't around.

"Do you have a place to grow it?" That's Edward. His voice is deep and flat. There is rarely any inflection of emotion his words. There's brute, dead honesty in him. He says what he means and does what he says.

"Yeah, this guy, Emmett, has this smoke shop with a basement we can use for awhile. But what I _really_ need is a green house." That's Jasper. His voice is kind, warm, and filled with so much emotion. I can actually feel him. He's the tranquility in Edward's chaotic, war-infected world. He's the believer in good.

Edward's laugh is cynical. "We need fucking money."

"I have a several grand saved up from deals I've made. It's only a couple of month's worth to pay off this guy for the space. After that, I don't know."

"No one can be involved in this. They'll just be greedy and want a bigger cut and shit."

"I know that, but what do you want me to do? I need a place to grow the weed, man. The amount of seeds you brought back is too much for me to produce in my parent's house. You have to be realistic."

Edward curses under his breath.

I poke my head further into the door to get a better view of the boys, but kitchen layout makes it impossible. The discussion they're having is about a business Jasper briefly mentioned to me during our surfing trips. He would never go into exact detail, but it's something both boys been planning to do for three years. The seed Edward brought back from Afghanistan is what started it all. Before then, Jasper was just a local dealer, but with his expertise in botany and keen business sense this thing of theirs could flourish beyond anything Laguna has ever seen.

All they needed was the right product.

"I'll find a place," Edward says.

"There's nothing out there. I've looked. Best case scenario, we build it, but that'll take money and time. Shit we don't have right now."

"Don't worry, bro, all right? I'll take care of it."

Jasper groans. "This is more complicated than I thought it would be."

"Yeah, and then you go and involve her. That's just going to keep complicating shit."

My ears perk up.

"Bean isn't a problem."

There's silence, and it's so fucking unbearable. I wish to God I could see their faces. It drove me nuts last night when they would have these telepathic conversations, but at least then I could try to translate it by expressions. This shit makes me feel blind.

"What? You don't think I'm being cautious?" Jasper asks.

"Her dad is DEA."

"Ex-DEA, and what does that matter? He's been a buyer for years. The guy is cool."

"Yeah, until you start fucking with his little girl."

Charlie's threats ring loud and clear. He would go to great lengths to put Jasper away, or so he told me. I hoped the weed would sustain him long enough persuade him to back off a little, but the misguided father instinct is strong in him. If for one second he thought these boys were taking advantage of me, I know he wouldn't hesitate to throw them both in jail.

I vow to make sure Charlie never finds out about us.

"You want me to drop her? Play it safe? Don't ruffle any feathers? Is that your advice to me right now?" Jasper's tone is stern. He's keeping his cool, no rising of his voice, but I can hear how angry he is.

What Edward's saying makes sense. I'm a potential problem to their business, but the thought of Jasper cutting me off is terrifying. I tried it once and can't foresee doing it again.

"Do what you want with her." The chair's legs scrape across the tile floor. "You just need to be aware what you're up against."

"Where you going, man? I made pancakes."

"I'm not hungry," Edward says. I hear him open the arcadia door to the back porch that leads to the beach.

Jasper continues to move about the kitchen while I stand outside the door and debate when the perfect time is for me to go in there. I don't want him knowing that about my eavesdropping and it leaves me kind of stuck in limbo. Maybe I should go upstairs and pretend I just woke up. Or maybe it would be best for everyone if I left.

The walk home isn't all that appealing, deadly traffic and whatnot, but having to face my boy as he breaks up with me is even less appealing.

I decide to go home and turn around to head back upstairs for my shoes, but find Edward leaning on a pillar staring at me. I'm startled, my heart jumping out of my chest and I'm wondering how the hell he got there. He must've snuck in around the side (And I'm guessing he saw me through the windows) but he's amused, cocky, and giving me a cease-all fire smirk. He's caught me, red cheeked and everything—we both know I was snooping.

"How long have you been there?" I ask.

"Not as long as you," he replies and takes a large stride in my direction. He's right on top of me before I can move away. He puts both his hands on the wall above my head and traps me between his muscular arms. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing."

"I doubt that."

Edward is an unpredictable guy. He has a gun sticking out of his waistband and can probably kill me with his pinky—that's not an exaggeration. Jasper told me the story about the club in Miami. He's dangerous and makes no excuses or apologies for it. I know, deep down where my common sense lies, he should scare me, but my attraction towards him is stronger than any fear. All I can focus on is how unique and striking his eyes are in this light. The bright sun brings out the imperfections of the gold and brown specks outside the rims of his pale, defining greens.

It's mesmerizing.

Then there is a subtle, yet tender quality of Edward he tries to hide behind his macho Seal bravado, but he shows it to me without realizing it. Like right now, he's trying to intimidate me by being forceful and surrounding me, but his hand twitches and flinches every few seconds when a strand of hair sweeps across my face. He wants to touch me as bad as I need to touch him.

And knowing this, the fact he may want to hate me but will never hurt me, gives me the guts to push him. He doesn't go far, a very heavy and strong guy, but my shove does cause him to stumble back enough and allows me ample room to escape.

"You know nothing about me," I yell in a hushed-whisper, making sure Jasper doesn't hear this conversation, "but you think by talking with me for one night—"

"We did more than just talk," he interrupts and approaches me again. This time, he rests his hands on my hips and I don't fight back. He smells good, a different brand of boy with the same hint of tropical oil. I try not to make it obvious how much he affects me, but it's difficult with his hot breath in my ear. "Your mouth told me everything I need to know about you."

I almost falter and succumb to the shivers, but somehow I find my strength and put all I have in pushing him away. "Then you should know I'm not going anywhere!"

There's surprise in his eyes as he falls back, glancing at me and the distance I've created between us. It's taken everything out of me, and I'm panting from the exertion, but I stand taller because of it.

"You don't have to like me with Jasper," I storm him and jab my finger into his chest, "you just have to accept it."

Edward tries not to smile, keeping his expression somber, refined, as he raises his hands with palms forward in a mock surrender. "You won't hear anymore shit from me."

Wars and battles will be waged with him, (I can see this coming from a mile away) but today, I won this one. It's impossible to not be smug about it.

"Good, let's keep it that way," I say and turn my back on him. He watches me and my ass walk away until I've disappear into the kitchen.

Jasper looks up from the stove and grins when he sees me. There's no intention in his eyes to heed his best friend's advice and break things off. He makes me a plate of blueberry pancakes and pours me a glass of orange juice. This eases my growling stomach and any fear I had about walking home. He wants me to stay and I will—through it all. Nothing outside of this house or Jasper will scare me away: not Charlie or the law, or even the illegal production of marijuana.

I'm a thief by trade, but the real injustice I've committed was to my heart by consenting to these older boys and spinning that damn bottle.

***()()***

The rest of the day is spent surfing and playing a few games of volleyball with Jasper and Edward. They kill anyone who goes up against them. It's unreal to witness how in sync they are with one another. I can't help but feel as an outsider at times. Their friendship is solid, stronger than anything I've ever seen. The telepathic conversations are one thing, but the intimate interactions and movements these guys share is daunting. The only thing that keeps me here is their devoted attention to me.

They flirt with me, each in their own ways, but equally—and they both know their doing it. I would've expected Jasper to be more territorial with me, but he isn't. At first, I thought—and _felt_, honestly, that he didn't give a shit (like he's passing me over to his buddy, like a toy-whore or something).

But this couldn't be the furthest from the truth.

There's trust and respect between the boys and me. It's the strangest thing and not so easy to explain, but it feels right and natural, somehow.

The best way to describe is, like, dating one boy at a time but multiplying that by two. That's a shitty description. It's confusing, but makes sense and is a damn contradiction: like pain but pleasure, salty but sweet, hot but cold, peaceful but violent.

To greed, it's a perfect set-up, but to me? It's nerve-racking, and by the end of the day, my head is spinning and I'm dizzy.

Even sitting in between them in the truck, with both their legs pressed against mine, is cause for some panic-induced hyperventilating. I keep it together on the outside, but on the inside, I am screaming with want and trying not to attack them.

I'm biting my cheek and white-knuckling it the entire ride home.

When we do reach my street and park about a block away from the apartments, I just about crawl over and straddle Edward to get out of this damn truck. These boys drive me insane and I need fresh air to think straight...or at the very least, get my hormones in check.

Edward chuckles, steering me clear from hitting the pavement with my face by moving aside and stabilizing my weight by palming my ass. Jasper is there at the passenger side and I put my hands on his shoulders while he holds my waist, lifting me out and setting me down on the curb.

"Thanks," I say to both.

Edward waves me off and shuts the door.

"Maybe I should walk you home?" Jasper offers. "Just to be safe."

"Okay, yeah, that'll be great."

It's quiet in my neighborhood and unusually dark out. The moon is black and a few stars litter the sky, but too many city lights dull out their brilliance. I walk side by side with my boy, neither of us talking, but the crickets keep chirping away. They're adding that much needed noise to ease the tension. It calms my racing thoughts. There are so many questions at the tip of my tongue and I can't find the courage to ask them.

Stopping right before the gate, Jasper turns to me and says in a rushed breath."I'm heading back to school tonight."

My world is at a standstill with my heart and I try to smile through the disappointment of him leaving so soon. "Until when?"

"Early March is when I complete my last class—maybe sooner. I just got to stay focused."

"All right." It's the same old line, but it doesn't have the same effect on me. That fear and insecurity is gone. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," he grabs my hands in an effort to keep me there, "I don't want you thinking the worst if I don't call you one afternoon or if our texts are cut short."

"Okay, so you're going to be busy," I say. "I get it, Jasp."

"No, you don't get it." He yanks me forward and wraps my arms around his waist. I feel his heart pounding so fast and so hard. He's terrified and his voice trembles. "I'm not blowing you off or distancing myself from you. I need you to understand that. This is how it's got to be for now. I just—I can't stop doing what I set out to do because I met you."

"I know that, and I'm not asking you to leave school or anything," I say, but I'm confused as why he's telling me this. What have I done to make him think he'll lose me that easily?

Then October comes to mind and how I stormed into a store, out of the blue, and demanded a new number. It was all because of a text of mine he didn't answer. How irrational of a response, but then again, fear can rule many decisions in life.

And right now, fear is ruling him. He thinks history is going to repeat itself.

"Oh, my God, I'm such a bitch," I blurt out.

Jasper whips his head up and cocks an eyebrow. "What? No, you're not."

"Ugh, yes, I am." Hiding my face in his chest, I groan. "The only reason you're telling me this is because I changed my number on you."

"Yeah, but that's my fault. I wasn't clear to you about our situation."

I slowly pull away from the comfort of his warmth and peek up at him. "What _is_ our situation?"

He doesn't think about his answer and responds in a soft-Jasper-kind-of-way. "We're friends."

"That's all we are then?" I unravel myself from his arms and brush off his touch. "Just friends?"

"Hey," he grabs the bottom of my shirt and tugs me back, "don't you think I want more with you?"

"But it's complicated, right?"

He knows then I'd heard his conversation with Edward and he goes on the defense. "Yeah, it's fucking complicated, Bean. Everything about you complicates shit, but I don't care about any of that. I never did."

"Then what is it?"

He shakes his head.

"Look, I like you..._a lot_, okay?" I pull my shirt out of his grip and unhook the latch on the gate to Dad's apartments. "But when you kissed me last night, it changed things and we can't go back. It's either all or nothing now. I won't—No! I _refuse_ to accept less from you," I point at Jasper, "less from him," I point towards the truck, "or anyone, for that matter."

Jasper's slumped posture goes erect and he narrows his eyes. "Him? Who do you…" he gives a fleeting look back at the truck and then back at me. "Bean, do you…" But I'm already halfway into the gate. "Hey, can you hold on for just a second and talk to me?" He grabs a hold of my wrist, but doesn't pull or jerk me back. That's not his way. He's easy with me, even if when he's mad or hurt, but just this little bit of him and his touch beats down my walls.

I squeeze my eyes closed, crumbling block by block, and whisper. "What?"

"You're right," he says and removes his hand. "Everything's changed now and we can't go back." I hear the shuffle of his shoes against the pebbles on the concrete and then I feel him in front of me. "But I'm not stupid either."

Jasper caught my slip, but I don't confirm his suspicions by saying his name. It's not necessary. We both know who he is and this no longer just about us. There's a third party sitting in a truck about a block away and whether or not he wants any involvement in this is still not known.

The facts are simple: I don't know Edward. These feelings I have for him are strange and baffling—at best, and very premature. My thoughts on the subject of polygamous relationships are merely experimental. I'm curious and want to experience both, but if I had to choose just one, the boy in front of me would win.

No contest.

"Edward is…" I pause, opening my eyes and looking at Jasper straight on, hoping to drive this one truth home. "We're just friends."

He smiles, almost satisfied with that answer, until his ever conscious brain thinks of some other obstacle to throw at me. "And what if he wants more?"

"Then you and Edward…" I notice the door to Charlie's apartment open and he steps out to smoke a cigarette "…are going to have to figure something out and make it work." I rise to my tip-toes and kiss him chastely on the lips. "I have to go now. Call me tomorrow, okay?"

"_Bean_!" Jasper calls after me, but I've already gone, flinging the gate open and slamming it closed.

I speed walk through the courtyard and don't look back. My abrupt and hasty departure had more to do with what I said to him than the fear of actually being caught by Dad. I took an opportunity to express my real, uncensored feelings to him and used it to my full advantage. It's freeing to be able say what you want and not have to stick around for the response.

"Night, Charlie," I say, not stopping and keeping a forward trajectory into the house.

"Hey, kiddo," he replies, barely getting out a "_where you been_?" before I'm inside my room and out of his reach.

***()()***

After a night of poor and horrible sleep, I decide to get up before the sun and go surfing. It's the one thing I have that relaxes me and keeps me from stealing. I'm not cured from that pesky habit, not by a long shot, but it's a start. Jasper is the constant voice in my head and leads me towards the sea. The surfboard he bought me for my birthday is his reminder. The paint on the front of the board is scuffed up and chipped from a coral rock I hit a few weeks ago, but the night sky and stars artwork on its underbelly is still intact and beautifully clear.

It always manages to take my breath away.

I check my phone. There's only one text from Jasper to let me know he made it to school safe. It's cordial and polite, but not what I wanted. Last night fleeing from him and the situation seemed like a brilliant idea. Now that choice is driving me crazy. Why couldn't I stick around for the answer? What is he thinking? Is he okay? Does he hate me? Does he hate Edward? Will either of them ever talk to me again?

These are the questions that made me toss and turn all night long.

I need to get out of this stuffy house and into that beautiful, expansive ocean.

Throwing my beach bag over my shoulder, I grab my board and move quietly through the apartment. On the kitchen counter top, I snag Charlie's car keys and head for the door. He's on the couch snoring—completely dead to the world.

After finishing off the bag of weed I brought home from Jasper's party, he ate a crap load of junk food and passed out. This is a nightly ritual for my father. I remember what he used to be and what he's become now and it makes me sad. He was a damn good cop, but having him as a docile and high parent figure works better in my favor. The pothead Charlie doesn't notice much of what his rebel daughter is doing or he really doesn't give a shit—possibly both.

I don't care either way.

Coming out of the apartment, I lean my board up against the wall and lock the door. If I plan my day right, I can catch a few waves, eat a little lunch, bullshit with Alice, and be back before noon. Charlie won't rise until after one, but really won't get his second wind until, at least, two or three.

If that man's anything, he's consistent.

Hooking the keys to my belt loop, I carefully grab my board and swing it around. My whole body freezes when a glimmer of a knife's blade catches my eye. It takes me a few seconds for my brain to process and put all the pieces of the picture in front of me together.

"Zero six hundred on the dot. Jasper said you were punctual."

Edward is on my stairs. He's dressed in a wet suit with the top half pulled down and hanging at the waist. The shirt he's wearing represents my high school, but the tattoo on his chest is the real prize and it peeks out at me from the side. He's ripped the sleeves off and the constant washing and wear of the shirt has caused the cloth to fall apart, thread by thread. It's barely hanging on. I don't care or see all that. I'm too focused on his muscles and colorful ink.

The clearing of his throat alerts me that I've been standing there gawking at him for way too long.

"Um…" I blink to get my thoughts together, "why are you here?"

"Today's Saturday," he says, as if that should explain everything.

It doesn't.

"Yeah, I know, but why are _you_ here on my porch?"

He stands and rises to his full height—which is fucking towering. "I figured you would need a ride to the beach."

"No, I'm covered," I say and flick the keys on my jeans. "Thanks, but you can leave now."

Edward groans, clearly frustrated with me, and rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, I don't think jacking your father's car is all that smart."

"I'll take my chances with Charlie, all right?" Shifting my board to the side and underneath my arm, I stride over to Edward and get into his face. He's 6'2 or something and surpasses me by eight inches or so, but I make up for what I lack with a spit-fire attitude. "You see, unlike _you_, I'm not afraid of the man he _used _to be."

"I knew you heard everything."

"But it doesn't change a damn thing, does it?" I say with a shrug. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some surfing to do and you're wasting my sunlight."

I get about two steps in before he's grabbing my arm and thrusting me back. Edward doesn't play nice and his touch is rarely, if ever, gentle. It's not his way.

"Here's the deal, Little Miss Isabella," he says and tightens his grip, "while Jasper's away, you got me. You don't have to like it," he leans down to my face and forces a strained, teeth-grinding smile, "you just have to _fucking_ accept it."


End file.
